


Whoever Lives in Love

by whitchry9



Series: the greatest of these is love [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Autism, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Illnesses, M/M, Medical, Medical Accuracy, Organ Transplantation, Pneumonia, Present Tense, Recovery, Surgery, Wedding Planning, Weddings, apparently I Gotta throw autistic characters in all my fics, autistic characters, bros being bros, did you know catholism is Bad? fear not I ignored the bad, i researched law things for this. again., immunosuppression, this is almost like studying for me. (it's not.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 33,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: After Matt accidentally-on-purpose proposed to Foggy while very high post-surgery, things return to normal. As normal as things can get for Matt, anyway.Normal apparently means a new case that is close to Matt's heart, post organ transplant immunodeficiency induced illness, and far more wedding planning than should be necessary for anyone.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Matt Murdock & Karen Page, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: the greatest of these is love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1449052
Comments: 195
Kudos: 279





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yall I'm VERY excited about this one. it's not completely finished yet, but I got the art (!!!) today for one of the last chapters and I got VERY motivated to finish it, so it's mostly done. it's longer than the preceding fic, and will likely have a similar chapter number.
> 
> this one's got it all! love! angst!  
> (those are all the things, right?)
> 
> continues almost immediately where the last one left off, so you might want to read it first. or not. I'm not your mother. 
> 
> oh and the title is yet another bible quote that I have used for my own purposes. 1 John 4:16: “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them."

“I cannot believe you proposed while out of your mind on pain meds,” Karen announces, not even bothering to say hello first.

Matt blinks. “What?”

“Oh shit, did you forget?” Karen covers her mouth with her hand.

“No, I remember,” Matt assures her. And he does, vaguely. How could he forget something like that? It was more of Karen’s sudden arrival and subsequent declaration that confused him.

“Oh,” she says, relaxing a bit. “Oh that’s a relief.”

It’s sometime later that day, Matt has no clue when. Foggy is asleep in the bed next to him, which is what he should be doing, except he can’t for some reason.

“So how are you otherwise?” she asks, sitting down next to him in one of those uncomfortable chairs.

“I have a new kidney,” Matt tells her, unsure of what else she could want to know.

She stifles a laugh. “No, I know that. Are you in any pain? Anything feel weird from the surgery? Can I get you anything?”

He frowns. He’s been on a fluid restricted diet for so long and he can’t remember if he still is now. Probably. Or at least the nurses would be mad if he drank unrestricted fluids without their permission. Matt doesn’t want to make them mad.

“You just sit with me for a bit?” he suggests.

“Of course.”

She inches the chair closer to the bed so she is within arm’s length, and then reaches out to take his hand. It’s free of IVs, since the port is still in his chest, and wouldn’t be removed until they were sure the kidney was actually going to work. (Matt had already heard them comment about his urine output, so he thinks he’s good on that front, but understands wanting to be sure.)

“I guess you’re going to have to plan a wedding now,” Karen comments. “I’m going to appoint myself the wedding planner, since I have a feeling both of you will be pretty useless on that front. I’m thinking silver for the colour theme. It probably won’t be that big of an affair, because I know how you get with large crowds, and it’s not like either of you have a huge number of friends, and even if you did, they mostly overlap, so the guest list should be manageable.”

Matt drifts off, Karen still chatting, mostly to herself, about their upcoming wedding.

It’s a bit terrifying, but he likes it all the same.

* * *

Foggy goes home the day before him. His incisions were tiny, and he was well on his way to healing. Matt, on the other hand, had a new organ sewn up in him and was dealing with a bigger incision, along with figuring out new meds. He has three of them, all designed to limit his immune system in one way or another. The doses he’s on now will decrease eventually, but as the transplant team keeps reminding him, this is the crucial period for making sure his body doesn’t reject Foggy’s organ. But it also means he’ll be extremely susceptible to infections. He’ll be susceptible for the rest of his life, but this period especially.

He realizes that night he hasn’t spent this long away from Foggy in… so long. He can’t remember the last time. Maybe a previous hospital visit?

It’s lonely. He’s not used to that.

Even though the hospital is never quiet, with alarms and conversations and crying, and he knows the rooms around him are filled with bodies and people and hopes and dreams, he can’t help but feel painfully isolated.

He doesn’t sleep well.

The doctors seem to recognize this, and decide he’s well enough to be discharged. Or he’s done with the IV steroids. It’s one of the two.

* * *

Karen picks Matt up from the hospital and drives him to their apartment.

“Foggy is doing fine,” she tells him. “Eager to see you again. I’ve got a bunch of meals in your freezer for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about cooking, the office will be closed until the new year as previously planned, and I’ve got a friend bringing you a Christmas tree in a week. There will be no parkouring, no lifting heavy objects, and no exertion.” She takes an opportunity at a traffic light to glare at him. “So no sex.”

“We’re not children,” Matt protests. “Plus the doctors already told us that,” he mumbles.

“Just making sure,” Karen tells him. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check on you.”

“Thank you Karen. Really,” Matt tells her.

“I know,” she says, not looking at him.

At the apartment, she waits patiently as Matt insists he can go up the stairs himself, taking a break after each floor to sit and rest. He used to be able to take on a dozen men without breaking a sweat but after one surgery he can’t climb up the stairs without needing a nap. It’s frustrating.

But they make it, Foggy opening the door before Karen could even get out her key.

“Matty!” Foggy cheers, and hugs him.

“Foggy,” Matt agrees, hugging back carefully, in case of hurting Foggy.

“Yes, yes,” Karen agrees. “Matt, sit. I’ll heat you up some stir fry. Foggy you want some too?”

“Already ate,” Foggy replies, following Matt to the couch.

Foggy is watching some movie Matt doesn’t recognize, but he turns it off and goes back to scrolling through Netflix.

“Anything you want to watch?” he asks.

“I’m probably going to nap, so you can pick whatever you want.”

Karen hands him the stir fry. It’s homemade, simple ingredients, but seasoned perfectly.

“Thanks,” he tells her. “I missed you spices,” he tells the stir fry. “The hospital food has never heard of spices.”

Karen gives him a kiss on the top of the head, and then does to the same to Foggy.

“I’m glad both of you are home and doing well,” she says fondly. “Now, rest up, no sex, and I’ll be back tomorrow. Text if you need anything.”

Foggy makes an aborted attempt to protest the thought that they’d have sex so soon after surgery, but Matt just shakes his head. “I already told her in the car. I think she just wants to see you blush.”

An uptick in Karen’s heartrate confirms that.

Foggy narrows his eyes at her. “Dirty pool, Page.”

“See you tomorrow!” she calls to them, closing the door behind her and locking it.

Foggy hums and rests his head on Matt’s shoulder. “How did we end up with her as our employee slash friend?”

“Murder,” Matt says, his mouth full.

“Of course,” Foggy agrees. “It’s how we make so many of our best friends.”

Well, Matt decides, he’s not wrong.

* * *

He wakes up to find he somehow got rice in his hair. He’s smushed into Foggy on the couch, who is also asleep. The tv isn’t playing anything, not anymore.

Matt considers that he should wake Foggy up, move to the bedroom. Surely sleeping in awkward positions after surgery wouldn’t be good.

But he has an alarm set to remind him to take pills, and the thought of getting up before absolutely necessary is not appealing, so he just closes his eyes again.


	2. Chapter 2

His first post-op appointment is two weeks after he’s discharged from the hospital. His incision is mostly healed, and the strips holding the incision closed have long since fallen off.

He goes early in the morning to get blood drawn, complaining for the sake of it about having to wear a mask.

Foggy pokes him to get him to stop. At this point it’s almost routine.

While they wait, Foggy texts Karen, who has been holding down the fort at the office for the past weeks. Matt thinks they’re both ready to go back to work, but Foggy insists that Matt needs more time at home to recover.

(“It was major surgery,” Foggy insisted.

“Our job is just sitting at a desk all day,” Matt protested. He still didn’t win.)

As it stands, Matt thinks Foggy will go back to work the next week, and hopefully he’ll be able to join him within a few days. Karen is extremely competent, but she isn’t a lawyer.

“What’s Karen saying?” he asks.

“That at the end of the week she’ll be closing the office for the year, so if we need anything, we should either let her know or drop by before then.”

“What?”

Foggy looks at him. “Matt, it’s the end of December. Christmas?”

Matt isn’t sure how he almost missed that one, but he has been a little busy lately.

* * *

The appointment goes fine. His blood levels are in a good range and the side effects have been minimal.

He reports some nausea, joint pain, and insomnia, all of which are pretty standard and not severe. His doctor also notes that his blood pressures have been near the high end of normal lately, referring to the black binder that Matt was given after the transplant to record his daily vital signs, medication, and everything transplant related. A medication is adjusted, a note is made in the binder, and he and Foggy are sent on their way with an appointment in the new year.

As they leave the hospital, Matt realizes for the first time just how close to the holidays it is. The streets around them seem to be buoyant with cheer, and the temperature is chilly enough to make it hurt a little to breathe.

“You know I haven’t started Christmas shopping yet, right?” Matt says, holding Foggy’s arm tightly to avoid slipping on the snow.

“We’ve spent the better part of the last three weeks in each other’s company. Of course I know that.”

“I could have done online shopping,” Matt protests.

Foggy doesn’t say anything, just turns his head. Matt assumes there’s a facial expression there that conveys some measure of disbelief.

“I’ve done online shopping before,” Matt mutters.

“Yeah, but you still prefer to shop in stores. God knows why, since you complain about them being sensory hell every time you go.”

“So many people,” he moans.

Foggy nods and steers him around a snowdrift.

“We’ve still got what, a week? We could go out together? Or if you’d rather not go with me, we could see if Karen is up for it.”

“I’m not sure _I’m_ up for that,” Matt replies. “And really, you’ll let me brave the crowds a week before Christmas, but won’t let me go to the office to sit in a comfortable chair and listen to Karen threaten the printer?”

Foggy hums. “Okay, point made. Maybe we celebrate Christmas in January this year. Hit those online boxing day sales, save all the money.”

“Oh, you don’t need to get me a present,” Matt tells him. “You’re covered.”

He places one hand on his stomach where Foggy’s kidney sits inside him.

“Damn right I am,” Foggy retorts. “But I’m still gonna spoil you.”

Matt beams. “Of course you are,” he agrees, resting his head on Foggy’s shoulder.

He decides he’ll text Karen later, to see what her ideas are about how to get Foggy the perfect gift in a week without leaving the house. It’s a big ask, but she would probably relish the challenge.

* * *

Their Christmas that year is quiet. They’re both still recovering from surgery, Matt more than Foggy, who only had small incisions rather than the large one Matt was subjected to. And Matt is conscious of his immunosuppression, not really wanting to spend time in crowds or with large groups during flu season. They go to church together, and spend the day at home. Karen comes over in the afternoon to help them make dinner, and it doesn’t even go as badly as Matt expected. The stuffing is a lost cause though. They make do without.

Later that night, after Karen leaves, Matt and Foggy sit on the couch together. The fireplace channel is crackling on the tv, and Matt can almost imagine the warmth emanating from it.

“So about that January celebration of Christmas,” Matt says. “I do have a present, but it’ll be a bit late. Think you can wait til then?”

“Considering I am also empty handed for the time being, absolutely.”

Matt raises an eyebrow and waits.

Foggy scoffs. “Okay fine.”

He crawls around underneath the tree for a minute, pulling the gifts out that had been stuffed at the very back, probably in a vain attempt to keep Matt from noticing them.

“Nothing big,” he tells him, passing him a wrapped gift.

Matt rolls the package in his hands, feeling for the edge of the paper. It’s soft and squishy.

He finds an edge and tears, revealing the present inside.

“Ooh,” he says, luxuriating in the fuzzy warmth of the socks he pulls out. There are three pairs, and all seem to be softer than the last.

“I thought you’d like them,” Foggy agrees, smiling. “They’re a bit brighter than your normal wardrobe, but I refrained from buying the ones in neon colours, so you should be fine.”

“I don’t think I’d even care,” Matt says, tossing one of his current socks across the room and sliding a new one on. He wiggles his toes in it. Perfect.

“Do they make these for the entire body?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s called a blanket, and I gave you one of those last year.”

Matt hums, and reaches behind him on the couch to where the blanket in question is folded up. He drapes it over both of them and rests his head on Foggy’s shoulder.

“Perfect,” Foggy declares.

“Hey Foggy?” Matt asks.

Foggy hums. “Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” he says, and then presses a kiss to Matt’s head.

Matt thinks he could live forever in this moment, cozy and soft and full of love.


	3. Chapter 3

Foggy goes back to work in the New Year, with Matt still at home. He doesn’t mind too much, since it does give him time to plan how he’s going to deliver the present. By the time he goes back to work later in the month, he still hasn’t made a decision about it, and thinks he’ll probably do whatever feels right in the moment. So before he goes into the office for the first day since his surgery, Matt makes one stop to pick up Foggy’s Christmas present.

“Welcome back Mr Murdock,” Karen greets him. “Your esteemed colleague Mr Nelson is currently _borrowing_ tea from next door again.”

She doesn’t make the air quotes when she says it, but they’re heavily implied.

Matt grins. Some things never change.

But some do.

Foggy bustles in the door, some chai teabags dangling between his fingers. “Karen, before Matt gets here-”

He stops abruptly, either upon seeing Matt or seeing Karen’s broad hand gestures. The teabags slip from his hands.

“Shit,” he says, bending down to pick them up. Matt really hopes he isn’t still going to use them, but he’s known Foggy for too long to definitively say he wouldn’t. And maybe that’s why his heart is racing, embarrassment about dropping the tea and still using it. Matt starts to open his mouth to chide him, to tell him that surely it can’t be worse than the shit they did in college and survived, but something stops him.

Foggy reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, and Matt’s heart threatens to stop. He doesn’t want to believe his senses. The racing heart wasn’t embarrassment, it was _nerves._

“What are you doing?” Matt asks, vaguely panicked and confused at the same time. “No, I’m supposed to do that.”

“You already did it when you were very high. It’s my turn now. And mine will be better.”

“And you chose to do it at work?” Karen mutters. Foggy doesn’t hear her.

Matt drops to the ground too, digging in his pocket for the ring. He pulls it out just as Foggy starts to protest. He’s cut short when he sees the ring, and Matt feels smug for a second before Foggy falls over, shaking.

He thinks that it’s a seizure or maybe some sort of extreme reaction to stress, until Foggy chokes out a single word.

“ _Same.”_

Matt doesn’t understand what it means until Foggy scrambles back to his knees, shoving the ring in Matt’s direction.

He wheezes with something that might be laughter before crumpling to the ground and making weird noises again, as Matt feels what Foggy has given him.

At first he thinks that somehow the boxes have been mixed up, that Foggy has handed it back to him. But when he checks, he’s holding two rings, both of them with braille lettering reading _I love you._

And for a second, he can’t breathe.

He shoves Foggy’s ring at him, and puts his own on.

 _I love you_ his ring says. He reaches for Foggy’s hand. _I love you_ it says too.

Behind them, sitting at her desk, Karen cackles. “I had to help both of you pick out a ring for the other without telling you that you were both doing the same thing. You’re complete idiots and I love it. You’re so perfect for each other I can’t believe it took you this long to start dating.”

The ring fits Matt perfectly. He grabs Foggy’s hand. So does his.

“Are they the same colour?” he asks.

“Yes. A perfect match.”

They both stumble to their feet, Matt’s knees aching from crouching on the ground. Proposals aren’t supposed to take ten minutes and involve both parties falling over.

They move as a unit to the couch, and both collapse into it. Matt can’t stop feeling his ring.

 _I love you. I love you. I love you_ it tells him.

Matt drops his head onto Foggy’s shoulder and laughs. “She’s right you know. We are idiots.”

Foggy presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Maybe.” He’s smiling. “Probably.”

Karen wipes a tear from her eye and sits up a bit straighter, already typing on her phone. “Marci is going to die when she hears about this.”

“Why did you ever introduce the two of them?” Matt whines.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you were the one who made us go to L&Z that day where they met.”

“Yeah but you gave them each other’s numbers.”

Foggy’s phone vibrates and he groans. “It’s her. I have done nothing to deserve this, why have all the gods forsaken me,” he pleads. He throws his phone at his desk, where it vibrates again, and he pointedly ignores it.

“Wait, you went with both of us?” Matt asks.

“Yup,” Karen says, popping the word like bubblegum. “Matt dragged me during a lunch hour before Christmas, when he was still on house arrest, and Foggy dragged me around that same time while telling you it was work related. Matt asking for help was more understandable, since he couldn’t see the colour or style of the rings, but Foggy was just as clueless.”

“So when I asked about which colour I should get-” Foggy began.

“I pushed you towards the colour Matt already picked out.”

Sneaky woman. Although Matt really had to admire her devious nature.

Of course, that did also explain a few things about the trip to the jewellery store.

* * *

“I’m not sure if I should get him a ring with braille,” Matt says.

Karen shoves him gently. “Come on, he’ll love it. Even more, he’ll love knowing what it says, when no one else will. It’ll be like a secret between you two. A sign that what you have is special. He’s a big sap, believe me.”

Oh, Matt knew that much.

“What should it say?”

“I mean, I’m all for it saying something completely inappropriate, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t go for that, so how about something simple?”

Matt hums. “And what colour?”

Karen had the jeweler show her the options a few times before settling on one she says would look perfect on Foggy. There’s something in her heart as she says it that isn’t a lie, but Matt doesn’t ask her about it.

* * *

Matt runs his fingers over his ring, embellished with the same braille that Matt had gotten for Foggy. He wonders what Foggy’s trip to the jeweler with Karen looked like, if she had to convince him about the braille or if he already knew it was what he wanted. Foggy wasn’t hugely familiar with braille, so for him to get a specific phrase, he must have gone knowing what he wanted, and the notation written down.

“Have I said yes?” Matt asks. “Because yes. Absolutely. I’m gonna marry you so hard.”

Foggy grabs Matt’s hand, and Matt can feel the braille brush against him. “Not if I marry you first,” he promises.

“Idiots,” Karen mutters, typing something on her phone, no doubt updating Marci. “That’s not how marriage works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you are here for more angsty bits, fear not, they are coming  
> if you are here for the fluffy bits, fear not, there are also more of those


	4. Chapter 4

Karen throws herself into wedding planning over the next week, checking in with them to determine if they wanted to do some sort of announcement, if they had any idea about the ceremony, and although didn’t include them directly, started shopping through their groups of friends to build a guest list.

“Did you know it’s Ron Collins birthday today?” she asks Matt casually in conversation.

He frowns. “Who?”

“You went to law school with him. I think he works at the same company as Marci now.”

“Oh,” Matt says. “No, I didn’t know that. We were never really close.”

Karen hums and crosses something out in her notebook.

After enough prodding from Karen, they publish a small announcement in the newspaper and update their website, but not after telling Foggy’s family in person. If Foggy hadn’t told them, and they’d had to find out through the newspaper, they’d both be disowned before they could ever exchange vows.

* * *

They don’t even make it through the door before Anna spots the rings and pulls them both into a massive hug.

“Mom, please, we’re both still recovering from surgery,” Foggy protests, and she releases them, somewhat chagrined.

“About damn time,” she huffs. “Come on in. I want to hear the whole story, but I probably shouldn’t make you say it more than once, so we’ll get your father and your sister in the room.”

She leans over to give Matt a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the family dear.”

They endure the teasing when Foggy’s family finds out Matt proposed fresh out of surgery, and they laugh when they find out that Karen nudged them towards getting the same rings. Over dessert they toast to their engagement, and Anna asks if they know when the wedding will be.

“That’s probably something to ask Karen about,” Matt tells her. “She’s taken on the planning role.”

Anna nods, apparently pleased with that. “Tell her I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

The office gets a good number of phone calls and cards congratulating them on their engagement, and Karen spends her lunch hours gossiping on the phone with Foggy’s mom for the next week. Thankfully, things do start to settle down, even if Karen does keep asking them about random people from college before scratching in her notebook and humming to herself.

* * *

“You know, I could probably do it again,” Matt says one evening. Foggy is playing a video game while he sits next to him on the couch, a book in his lap that he isn’t really reading.

“What?”

“Daredevil,” Matt says, and Foggy freezes. Matt hears the death music play through Foggy’s headphones a second later.

“Matthew I love you, but I swear to god if you’re telling me you’re seriously thinking about putting the suit back on after all that we’ve been through, I’ll divorce you now, I swear it.”

“We’re not even married yet, calm down,” Matt huffs. “And no, I’m not going to do it. I just… think I could. That’s all I’m saying.”

Foggy pokes him in the side. “You still have those big kidneys just waiting to bleed with the slightest provocation. Playing ‘contact sports’ is hardly a safe bet.”

He uses air quotes and everything, which is mostly wasted on Matt.

Matt rolls his eyes. “You think I don’t know that?

Foggy scoffs. “I think that knowing it intellectually is different from convincing your heart of that fact.”

Matt doesn’t know how to dispute that, because he’s right.

“I’m not letting you die until I can put a ring on it and then get like 30 more years out of our partnership, sorry.”

“Just 30?”

“Um, some of us don’t exactly eat healthy,” Foggy comments, gesturing to the bag of chips that had been discarded as he got to a challenging level.

Matt laughs. “Okay, but you underestimate my powers of persuasion. And cooking.”

“Oh no, if anything, you overestimate your powers of cooking.”

Matt doesn’t say that it’s almost a guarantee he’ll die first. Transplanted organs have a lifespan that doesn’t match up to a human body. At some point, he’ll either need another transplant or to go back on dialysis again. Foggy can’t give him anymore kidneys, and Matt doesn’t have a lot of hope for that kind of miracle happening a second time.

But Foggy probably knows all of that, which is why Matt doesn’t say it. That way they can both pretend it’s not true.

Foggy picks up the game again, but it’s only a minute later that Matt hears the death music again, then the main title screen music play.

Foggy sighs. “How about a movie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look emotions


	5. Chapter 5

It’s one of those days near the end of winter when the snow is old and grey and dirty, but the temperature is well below freezing, and Matt and Foggy decide immediately upon getting up that this is a day that will be spent indoors at home. Thankfully it’s the weekend, which means they don’t have to make up a lie that Karen definitely wouldn’t believe, and instead settle onto the couch with cups of cocoa, fuzzy socks and blankets, and the remote. Foggy scrolls through their options while Matt adjusts the blanket to cover both of them evenly, and finally settles on a cheesy dramedy that he’s been wanting to see for a while.

The opening credits start rolling over the screen, and Foggy describes them in unnecessary detail.

“What a terrible font choice,” he remarks. “Oh, but I didn’t know Daniel-”

Matt sneezes.

“Are you sick?” Foggy asks, peering closely at his face.

Matt swats him away. “I hardly think so. One sneeze does not mean I have an infection.”

“Because if you do-”

“Fever above a certain point, hospital, yes I know,” Matt assures him. “We read all the pamphlets together, remember?”

“Forgive me for worrying,” Foggy says, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

“Never,” Matt grins.

At some point they both fall asleep during the movie, and Matt wakes up with a dry mouth, an aching head, and no clue what the plot of the movie even was.

He feels infinitely worse, but also doesn’t want to admit Foggy was right about him being sick.

So he sneaks off the couch, untangling himself from underneath Foggy’s arm, and tiptoes to the kitchen where he downs a glass of water and a Tylenol, which is on the list of acceptable medications. Then he carefully situates himself on the couch again, in the same position underneath Foggy’s arm, and drifts off.

* * *

“Hey Matty,” Foggy whispers.

Matt ignores him.

“Come on Matty, don’t be like that.”

Matt grumbles. It’s a mistake, because the Tylenol has done nothing to touch his headache, and his dry throat is back with a vengeance. It turns into a whine.

“Okay, that doesn’t sound good. Come on, open your eyes.”

Matt does, but only so he can glare at Foggy.

“Yeah, I know it doesn’t do anything for you, but it makes me feel better.”

He puts a hand on Matt’s face. “You feeling okay?”

Matt swipes it away.

“You’re not really warm.”

“Need a drink,” he mumbles, trying to untangle the blanket that got wrapped around his legs at some point.

“Yeah, the heating really messes with the air in here. Maybe we should get a humidifier,” Foggy comments, wandering to the kitchen and filling up a glass.

When he hands it to Matt, his outstretched hand misses by an inch.

Foggy just stares at him for a second before setting the glass down on the table instead.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, feeling his face again.

Matt lets him. “Ears are kinda stuffy. Hard to tell where things are.”

Foggy makes a sympathetic noise and reaches for the glass, setting it right in Matt’s hands, apparently assured it’s not anything serious. “Sounds like you’re getting a cold.”

Matt downs the water. It feels nice on his dry throat, but isn’t the miracle cure he was hoping for.

“I’ll get the thermometer,” Foggy decides, standing up. “Just to be sure.”

Matt doesn’t protest. If it makes him feel better, he’ll go along with it.

Foggy rummages around in the bathroom for a few minutes before returning, brandishing the thermometer like a trophy.

Matt diligently holds it under his tongue for the requisite amount of time before it beeps, and Foggy pronounces his temperature normal.

“99.1,” he announces, reading the display. “Hey, you wouldn’t be able to read this. Can you get talking thermometers?”

Matt nods. “Of course. But I don’t have one-”

“Because why would you ever think about taking your temperature,” Foggy finishes. “Of course.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Foggy asks, concern evident in his voice.

Matt softens. “Hey I sneezed once, I have a dry throat, and a bit of a headache. I’ll be fine.”

Foggy settles into the couch next to him. “Good. So how much of the movie did you catch?”

“Uh,” Matt says.

“That’s what I thought. How about I put on John Mulaney again?”

“That sounds great.”

* * *

After two John Mulaney specials, with a break in between for some soup, Foggy herds them both to bed. Matt doesn’t feel any worse, but he also doesn’t feel any better, which he thought the Tylenol would have helped with. Whatever. Hopefully it will blow over, and he’ll wake up in the morning feeling better. More likely he’d wake up sneezing, but he was hoping for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying for Monday Friday updates, but my schedule is... not conducive to this.

It’s dark when he opens his eyes. That’s not unusual. They haven’t seen natural light in ages. He can’t actually remember the last time he did. He was young though. He can’t remember if that was what caused his vision loss, or if there was something else. There’s something out of his reach that he can’t remember.

The ship’s old bones creak under his feet. He is told that he must wait. They don’t tell him what he is waiting for, if they are going somewhere safe, if they are waiting for the place they are in to be ready. They tell him he doesn’t need to know. And Matt tries to accept that, but he has never been good at accepting such answers. It might be why he’s being dragged now, through the corridors. He knows where they’re going. There are no windows on the ship, except for two tiny ones, under lock and key, because of what happens to the people who look through them. Madness, mostly. But for some reason, they need people to look. Matt wants to tell them he’s not the best choice, since he hasn’t seen anything in years, but he can’t seem to open his mouth, and it’s too late, because he’s already being shoved into a tiny space, more of a cage than a room. There’s the slam of a door behind him, and he can hear someone in the space next to him.

He squints his eyes shut, and feels warmth spread over his face. He thinks it might be the sun.

And he can’t help himself, he opens his eyes, and he can _see,_ and it’s bright and amazing and awful all at once, and something inside of him _breaks_ and he’s not sure if it’s because it’s good or bad, and he thrashes out, hitting against the confines of the tiny space, smacking his arms against solid surfaces, and opening his mouth to scream.

_He has to get to it he has to he doesn’t know why but he has to get to it and he can’t-_

“Matty, wake up, please,” Foggy pleads. “Come on. You’re okay. It’s me, Foggy. We’re at home. You’re in bed. You’re safe.”

He’s slammed into a different reality, and the last one fades almost immediately.  
“Foggy?” Matt whispers.

“Oh thank fuck.” Foggy throws his arms around Matt. “You were having some kind of night terror or something.”

There’s something wrong. Something that Foggy isn’t telling him. Something that he’s missing.

“Are you okay?”

Foggy laughs a little bit. It’s a choked laugh. “Buddy, you were the one who was just freaking out.”

That’s not an answer, and Foggy knows it.

“Foggy.”

“I think you were having some kind of nightmare where you were fighting someone, because you were thrashing around in the bed.”

“I hit you,” Matt realizes, something like terror in his chest.

“I’ve been hit harder before, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Matt’s trying to drag the pieces of his dream together. He saw something, something that he wasn’t supposed to see, couldn’t understand for some reason. And whatever it was broke him. He can’t remember the details right now, but they seem important for some reason.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, reaching a hand out to try and feel for where he’d hit Foggy.

He aims for Foggy’s shoulder and instead pokes him in the neck. “Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

Foggy ignores his apology and instead presses a hand to Matt’s forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up. No wonder you were having a nightmare. You’ve got a fever. Stay there,” he orders, throwing the covers off and disappearing into the living room.

Matt wants to follow him, but can’t seem to find his legs to stand up, which is mildly concerning.

Foggy shoves a thermometer into his mouth before he can say anything about it, and while he’s thinking about what he wanted to say, it starts beeping.

“102.4. Yep, it’s time for the ER. Come on bud, it’s road trip time.”

“It’s just a cold,” Matt protests half heartedly, but Foggy is already wrestling his arms through a sweater, and then bending down to pull Matt’s socks back on, having been kicked off at some point in the night.

He still has no idea what time it is when they arrive at the ER. The traffic is quiet enough that it has to be before sunrise, not that it means much in January. Foggy hadn’t included his watch as part of the necessary clothes to put on, although he had included two hats for some reason.

Foggy explains at triage that Matt is immunocompromised due to a recent organ transplant, and he has a mask on his face and his vitals taken before he can even sit down to listen to the TV.

He protests that the mask is unnecessary, but Foggy points out that he’s been coughing since the car ride, which Matt hadn’t noticed. He blames the fever, which the nurse at triage noted had risen to 103.1.

He feels pretty miserable. Now that Foggy has mentioned it, he is coughing. His head hasn’t stopped hurting, and if anything, has only gotten worse. He keeps alternating between sweating and chills and Foggy won’t let him wear his coat inside, which Matt thinks is rude.

And just as he’s about to fall asleep, something that has never happened to him in the ER before, he’s rudely interrupted by someone coming to poke at him and draw blood and get him to sneeze in a cup or something. It’s getting hazy.

Matt kicks off the blanket. When the hell did he get in one of the stupid gowns?

“The first symptoms I noticed were last night. He sneezed, and then a few hours later had a headache and dry throat, but no fever at that point. Then he woke up about an hour ago from a nightmare, and had the fever then. Now he seems to be out of it, and the fever has gone up.”

“What meds is he on?” a new voice asks.

“I’m right here,” Matt grumbles. It’s rude that they’re not talking to him.

“I’m sorry Mr Murdock. I’m Dr Sun. I’m one of the on call doctors. How are you feeling?”

Matt shivers and gropes for the sheet to pull back up. He doesn’t find it, but it rises to his chin all the same. It’s either magic or Foggy, and he loves both of them.

“Cold,” he mutters.

“He’s been doing that for a bit now,” Foggy says, but he’s not talking to Matt. He knows that he just made a fuss about it, but Matt can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“It definitely sounds like it could be influenza. We’ll run some tests and start treatment right away.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, in patients who’ve had transplants, an early intervention is important.”

“I’m guessing he’ll be admitted?”

“Yes, we’re just waiting on a bed. He’ll also be in isolation, so you’ll need to get used to those charming gowns.”

“Nah,” Matt mutters.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, you don’t get a say in this. Either part, the being admitted or the charming gown and mask I’m wearing. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been this handsome.”

Matt hums, and feels like there is a lot of opportunity there for teasing, but can’t seem to pin anything down.

“The transplant team has been notified, and one of their doctors will be taking over his care once he’s admitted. If you have any questions while you’re here in the ER, one of the nurses will be able to find me.”

Foggy thanks them and they disappear.

“I have the flu?” Matt mumbles.

“Looks like it.”

Matt scoffs. “And even after I got the shot.”

Foggy hums. “Yeah, but you know they said it might not be as effective so soon after the transplant. Something to do with the immune response.”

Matt has no idea, but makes a noise in agreement.

“You’d agree to pretty much anything I said now, huh?” Foggy asks.

“No…” Matt sighs.

“It was worth a try.”

“We’re already engaged,” Matt mumbles.

“That’s true,” Foggy says, leaning back in his chair. There’s a rustle as he does. “Suppose I can’t do anything more outlandish than that."

Matt makes a noise in agreement, although he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to ShardsOfNarsil, who told me about the dream she had. I modified it for my needs. Your brain is weird.


	7. Chapter 7

He must have fallen asleep, because he wakes up at some point in a different room, and starts to panic. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got there, and there’s a vague sense of foreboding about the whole situation. He doesn’t like it.

He has a memory of being thrown into a tiny room and trapped there while something awful happened to him, and he doesn’t know when it happened, but it gives him enough of a burst of fear that he figures out where his legs are and throws them into action.

And promptly falls on his face.

“Oh shit, Matt, calm down. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Something in Matt’s body untenses at that. Foggy wouldn’t lie to him. Foggy would protect him and help him.

“Hey, you’re okay. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Hurt? He doesn’t know.

“No blood, no bruises, no broken bones?”

Matt doesn’t think so. He shakes his head.

“You woke up and thought you’d go for a walk?”

He helps Matt to his feet and back to the bed. The hospital bed. It’s coming back now, in pieces. Either that or he’s putting it together with context clues. He’s not sure.

“I didn’t remember.”

“So you woke up in an unfamiliar place, didn’t remember how you got there, and I wasn’t there. Shit, I’m sorry bud.”

“Not your fault,” Matt assures him, because it feels like it’s the right thing to say.

“Your fever is down a bit,” Foggy says, pressing a hand to Matt’s forehead. “Or maybe that’s just the gloves. Hard to say.”

“Gloves?”

“Yeah. You’re in isolation, so I’ve got to wear gloves, mask, and a gown. I like to think I make it look good.”

Matt grins. “Oh I’m sure.”

“They’ve got you started on antivirals for the flu, and something to bring down the fever. Also fluids, because they were worried about dehydration and the kidney.”

Matt hums. “What time is it?”

“About 2pm. You slept through the transfer from the ER. Probably for the best. Someone from the transplant team was here for a bit, but you slept through that too. They want to get a chest x-ray because of the cough. Apparently it’s really easy for pneumonia to happen with influenza when your immune system sucks, so they want to keep an eye out for it. Other than that, it’s been pretty boring. No roommate, so I can’t even get entertainment there. Wish I’d remembered to grab a book. You think after all the hospital trips we’ve done I would have figured out the essentials to grab.”

“I mean you remembered my socks, so that’s what’s important here,” Matt points out, doing his best to not feel guilty. He fails.

Foggy makes an attempt at a smile, but either Matt’s ears are still messed up, or the mask Foggy is wearing is interfering with it, because Matt can’t tell where it goes from there. He doesn’t like that.

“Is the mask to keep you from getting sick, or me from getting sick?” he asks instead.

“Oh. I’m not really sure. Both maybe?”

Matt hums. His eyes are closed. It doesn’t make a difference to him whether they’re open or not, because it’s not like they work, but he gets the sense they’re closed now because he’s falling asleep again, which seems excessive.

“You should run home,” he says before he drifts off completely. “Get a book. Phone charger. More socks. Whatever.”

“You sure?” Foggy asks, dubious. “Remember like ten minutes ago when I found you on the floor because you forgot what happened?”

“Shouldn’t make the same mistake again. And need more socks,” Matt insists. That part is mostly a lie, but he doesn’t want Foggy just sitting around with nothing to do. He feels bad enough that Foggy has sat around for this long already.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be back soon, hopefully before you wake up again,” Foggy promises. “Kiss,” he says, patting Matt’s forehead with two fingers. “I figured kissing through the mask would be weirder,” he explains when Matt cracks open one eye in confusion.

“Hard to say,” Matt tells him.

“You’re probably right,” Foggy agrees.

“Damn right I am.”

Foggy snickers, and Matt listens to him tear the gown off in the hallway as he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

He’s woken up at some point and forced to have a chest x-ray taken. It might be at the same time, or a different time, that someone is checking his vital signs. He’s vaguely irritated, but not awake enough to do anything about it.

At one point he has a coughing fit that leaves him curling up on his side, something rattling every time he takes a deep breath. He’s pretty sure that’s not good, but isn’t worried enough to do anything about it.

Someone is taking his vital signs again, or maybe it’s the first time? They try to get him to wake up, talking loudly to him and poking him, but it’s through thick cotton that has filled up his head, and it’s not enough of an annoyance for him to be bothered. Then there are two sets of hands poking at him and two voices asking him to wake up, and when hands try to pry his eyelids open he bats them away. Or at least tries. He feels uncoordinated, like some sort of newborn animal that has been expected to walk immediately after birth, which really isn’t fair for anyone.

It might work, because they leave him alone, or he falls asleep, because there aren’t any hands on him.

And then there are, and they’re _dangerous,_ they’re trying to hurt him, to suffocate him, there are hands covering his nose and pulling on his hair and he doesn’t know why they’re doing this or how to get away because his muscles seem like they’ve been replaced with jelly and that’s just not playing fair. He gets in one elbow, to someone’s nose if the immediate scent of blood is anything to go by, and then there’s yelling and more hands and arms and then he is so so heavy and then there is nothing at all.

* * *

He drifts for a bit. He knows when he’s awake because there’s a high pitched sound near his head, which luckily doesn’t penetrate his dreams. Sometimes he wakes in the middle of a coughing fit, body wracked with spasms. He thinks there’s something he forgot, but he can’t remember if that’s true.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this chapter: okay this is pretty much studying right?
> 
> also contains a Very Good line that I love. see if you can tell which one it is.

He wakes up with something in his throat, choking him. Or not, because he can still breathe, but it feels like it should be choking him. It feels wrong.

He wants to do something about it, but his arms feel distant. He has to figure out where his fingers are one by one. By the time he’s located them, he’s exhausted. The signal seems to be getting lost somewhere between his brain and his muscles because they don’t want to listen. It’s infuriating and exhausting, and when he finally does get them to move, there’s something around his wrist that limits his movement. He tugs against it twice before the energy oozes out of him and all he can do is lay there.

“Matty,” Foggy breathes, and there is reverence in that word. Foggy says his name like a prayer. “Oh hey buddy. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe. You can’t move your arms much because they’re restrained, which I know you hate, but you elbowed a nurse and kept trying to pull out your tubes. You’re in intensive care now, cause you’ve got pneumonia on top of the flu. You can rest if you want, I know you’re tired.”

Matt wants to say something, thank Foggy for being there, ask how long it’s been, when he can go home, apologize for hitting the nurse, but the tube in his mouth means he can’t move his tongue around properly to make sounds and whatever is in his throat steals any chance of speaking. So he just squeezes Foggy’s hand as hard as he can, which isn’t very hard at all, and tries to relax. If Foggy says it’s okay, Matt believes him.

And as if Foggy mentioning it made it true, or perhaps just made him realize it, Matt is suddenly exhausted and his eyes are closed. Maybe they were never open.

* * *

He remembers he’s in the hospital just as the nurse comes into the room.

She introduced herself to Matt and keeps talking, but Matt can’t hear her between the rhythmic hissing that must be the ventilator, and the wheezes and rattles in his chest every time a breath is forced into his lungs.

Foggy keeps holding his hand, and Matt clings to it.

* * *

When he wakes up next he’s tilted on his side a bit, something pushed behind his back to keep him propped in that position. He’s still holding Foggy’s hand.

He squeezes it.

Foggy must have been asleep, because it takes him a minute to stir.

Matt feels a little more awake this time. Maybe that means he’s getting better, or perhaps it just means he’s not on as many medications. Didn’t Foggy mention something about being medicated?

“Hey bud, you awake?”

Matt just glares in his direction. He hopes there’s light in the room for Foggy to see it.

“Hey, it’s a valid question. You’ve had your eyes open before without really being awake.”

He does not remember that. He feels like he’s allowed to not remember though, considering the circumstances.

He tugs at his arm in a vain attempt to reach up to his mouth and stop the suffocating feeling, but it doesn’t go. He tries again.

“Your arms are restrained bud,” Foggy says gently. Matt thinks this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation.

He tugs again. _Why,_ he wonders loudly, in the hopes Foggy can somehow hear it.

“I know it’s not the greatest, but it’s to keep you safe. You kept trying to pull things out.”

Matt frowns, and it pulls at tape stuck to his everywhere.

He would very much like to pull things out now, or have the doctors pull them out, if that was preferred, but he’s not sure how to communicate that to Foggy.

“You want it out, right?”

Matt nods, and the movement pulls on something, somewhere he’s never felt before. It’s a bad feeling.

He grimaces.

“It’s like… 3am though. You think you could go back to sleep for a bit? I have a feeling they won’t take that tube out until the morning.”

Matt wants to refuse, to protest, to make sad eyes until Foggy gives in and presses the call button to summon a squad of nurses and doctors in, but it sounds like a lot of work, and instead just closes his eyes and somehow manages to drift off.


	9. Chapter 9

Apparently it’s morning when he opens his eyes next.

There’s a new nurse who introduces herself. Matt promptly forgets her name.

Doctors do rounds. He thinks some of them are from the transplant team. A respiratory therapist is involved at some point too. They talk above him and around him, and Foggy is barely included in the discussion.

He misses most of it but someone declares that things are looking good, and that extubation could be considered.

Then most of them leave except for the respiratory therapist and nurse, and he’s thrust into a series of tests he never studied for.

Apparently he’s been breathing on his own most of the night, so that’s something going for him. But that’s not enough for them. They make him breathe in and out and suck air in as hard as he can and take a deep breath and then they feed a tiny tube down the bigger one in his throat and make him cough before something in his throat loosens and they press a stethoscope to his trachea. It’s exhausting and he wants it to be over with, and he’s half tempted to pull the tube out himself except Foggy is holding his one hand and the other one has the IV taped to it with one of the boards that they use on children, and he thinks it would be more trouble than it’s worth.

Plus he is tired.

The respiratory therapist, who introduced herself as Charlotte, tells him that he’s doing great and that they should be able to take the tube out. She just has to check with the doctor but will come right back.

She leaves the room, and Matt squeezes Foggy’s hand. It seems like he won’t need to resort to his own methods, which is probably for the best.

“They’re probably going to ask me to leave for this,” Foggy tells him. “And I probably should anyway. Sounds gross.”

Matt grins, and it pulls on the tape that has been stuck to his cheeks. It also goes around the back of his neck, but doesn’t stick there for some reason. He can’t figure out why. It’s probably not that important, but is bugging him for whatever reason.

“Might as well use that time to find some coffee,” Foggy tells him, and he’s trying to hide it, but Matt can hear in his voice how exhausted he is. Matt wants to tell him to leave, to go home and sleep, but he thinks that last time he told Foggy to leave, things went wrong very quickly. He can’t remember though.

And there’s a part of him that is terrified and selfishly doesn’t want to be left alone here.

Father Lantom whispers at him that it isn’t selfish, that wanting company is not a selfish thing, that he is entitled to feel afraid and lonely and want someone to be with him, but Matt thinks he’s lying.

Charlotte comes back, having rustled into a new gown in the hallway. She is much better at it than Foggy, which probably comes with the job. There’s someone else with her, a nurse probably, and Matt desperately hopes it’s not the one he elbowed.

“Okay, we’re good to go,” Charlotte announces brightly. “I’ll be sure to walk you through the steps as we do them so you know what’s coming. If you have concerns at any time, just raise your hand up and I’ll stop what I’m doing and we can work through it together. I have a student here with me. Sayid is also training to be a respiratory therapist. Is it alright if he stays and helps?”

Matt nods.

She turns to Foggy. “Sir, you likely won’t want to be here for this part. Most people find it unsettling.”

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna go find some coffee.” Foggy gets to his feet, pressing two fingers to Matt’s forehead again. “Kiss,” he says. “Love you, be back soon.”

Matt beams in his direction.

“Wow, he’s super sweet,” Charlotte remarks. “Husband?”

Matt shakes his head.

“Boyfriend?”

Matt paused before shaking his head.

“Ah, fiancé?”

Matt nods.

“Congrats. I know wedding planning can be tricky, so hopefully you’re not stressing over it too much,” she tells him, making him cough again with that stupid tiny tube.

He wants to tell her no, that their friend has taken on most of the planning to disguise the fact that she doesn’t trust them to ever get anything done, which is fair, but still somewhat hurtful. But he can’t, which is probably the worst part of this hospital experience. At least all the other times he’s been able to talk, or has been unconscious through this part.

She does something and a bit of the choking feeling is gone, and then she’s having him breathe in and out and in and she’s pulling the tube and he wants to throw up, he’s definitely going to throw up and _oh God how is there still something in his throat_.

“That’s great, just cough it all out,” she tells him, holding an oxygen mask near his face. The therapist in training sucks some of the goo out of his mouth with a wand or whatever it is.

When it seems like he’s done coughing, she slips the mask on his face and pulls his gown down to listen to his chest again.

He waits until she’s done before talking.

“Foggy,” he says. His voice is raspy and it hurts a bit to talk, but he expected worse, honestly.

“Is that your fiancé?” Charlotte asks.

Matt nods.

“If I spot him on my way out, I’ll let him know you were asking for him, alright?”

He nods again, appreciative.

She checks a few more things and makes some notes, before humming to herself.

“Everything looks good. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he tells her.

“No shortness of breath, tightness in your throat, pain anywhere?”

He shakes his head. He aches a little bit from the fever, but suspects that’s not what she’s asking.

“Great. I’ll be back in about half an hour to check on you, and probably draw some blood if that’s what your doctor has ordered. If you need anything before then, your nurse can get ahold of me.”

He nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

With that, he is left alone in the room. The oxygen mask hisses in his face, but he’s too tired to do anything about it. Even lifting his arm up to grab it seems like too much work at the moment. The whistling behind his head is still present, which he thinks is the suction. Maybe Foggy would make it stop when he got back. Matt closes his eyes.

There are shuffling footsteps nearby, and someone swears under their breath. Matt can smell coffee, even through the residual congestion.

“Foggy?” he asks, cracking his eyes open.

“Hey buddy. Glad to see you without tape on your face.”

Matt scoffs. The mask is hardly an improvement, if you ask him.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re still grumpy, but you look miles better than you have for days.”

Days? How long has it been?

The horror must be evident on his face, because Foggy nearly trips over himself to reassure him.

“Hey, calm down. You’ve been in the hospital for three days. I don’t know how much you remember. We showed up at the ER really early in the morning, you were admitted by that afternoon, and you declined really quickly. You were in the ICU by that night, and they had to put you on a ventilator because of the pneumonia. The good news is that the medication they gave you for the influenza worked really well, and the pneumonia has started to clear up too. They said something about you being tired and just needing a rest, which was why they were helping with your breathing. You were pretty agitated though, which was why you had to be restrained. You pulled out your IV once, and kept pulling the oxygen tubing off.”

“I hurt someone?” he asks, knowing the answer, but needing Foggy to remind him of it.

“Yeah. You elbowed a nurse. Gave her a bloody nose. You had a really high fever at that point, and your sats kept tanking but you wouldn’t keep the oxygen on. They had to sedate you, and that was when they put the breathing tube in.” Foggy studies him for a second. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

Matt blinks. Of course he knows that. But he can’t bring himself to say it, because Foggy would instinctively know he was lying.

Foggy sighs fondly, placing a hand on Matt’s. “I ran into Charlotte in the hall. She said she’d be back in a little bit to take some blood, but you should rest until then.”

Matt hums. His eyes are closed. Foggy sips at his coffee with one hand, then fumbles with a book. His other hands doesn’t let go of Matt.

“What are you reading?” he mumbles.

“Good Omens,” Foggy replies. “Wanna hear?”

Matt hums affirmatively, and Foggy flips back to the beginning.

“‘It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’”

Matt drifts for a bit, Foggy’s words lulling him to sleep, until Charlotte comes back to take blood from his wrist. Apparently he’s had it done already, but he was sedated then. Matt listens to her explain the procedure, then agrees. He’s done a lot of things in his life, surgeries and procedures, broken bones and dislocations reduced without anesthesia, this can hardly top any of those.

(It doesn’t, but it comes close. For whatever reason, a needle going into his artery makes him woozier than the countless other injuries he’s had before. Maybe it’s because he knows how close he’s come to death each of those times, that the thought of doing it for a procedure is just completely absurd to him.)

Charlotte leaves after holding pressure to his wrist for an indeterminate amount of time that felt like forever. She talked with Foggy a bit about their wedding, and he explains that their friend Karen has taken over the planning. Matt hums at the appropriate intervals.

She takes Matt’s blood and goes, and Foggy continues reading. Matt falls into what is the first dreamless sleep he’s had since this whole thing started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay writing this chapter was a bit of studying, since this is something I will do in my job! I helped with an extubation during one of my clinical visits and everything.   
> I named Charlotte after a fellow student.


	10. Chapter 10

He gets better in tiny increments.

His temperature goes down a tenth of a degree. His white blood cell count comes up by 500. He moves from intensive care to a step down unit. He’s allowed to eat food, if applesauce can be considered food. The feeding tube in his nose is taken out. His kidney function is still good, which was the main concern of the transplant team, since influenza could apparently trigger rejection. Matt hears multiple times that he’s lucky- lucky he’s young and otherwise healthy, lucky that he responded so well to the antivirals, lucky that he came in so soon.

He doesn’t feel lucky though. Lucky would be if he didn’t get the flu, lucky would be never needing a kidney transplant, lucky would be his father still being alive, and not being blind, and countless other things that Matt can’t even list because he would start crying in frustration at the thought of it and doesn’t want to find out if that has to be included in the nurse’s fluid tracking.

Because he knows he is lucky. He’s lucky that Foggy brought him in, because he would have been content to stay home until he was basically unconscious. He’s lucky that Foggy could give him a kidney, that they matched perfectly, that he lives in a place where kidney failure doesn’t just mean death. He’s lucky for the radar sense, and the law practice, and all the people he’s met along the way that love him, or so he’s been told.

He’s still not sure if all of those things means he’s very lucky or unlucky, and figures it’s a conversation he should save for Father Lantom.

Karen comes to visit when he’s moved out of the ICU, and Foggy takes that opportunity to head home for a while.

Karen has a tablet with her, and excitement in her voice, and Matt wishes with a growing sense of foreboding that he was still sedated and unconscious.

“Okay, colour scheme,” Karen announces.

Or just dead, Matt decides.

“You know that doesn’t matter to me,” he points out, after quickly hoping he falls asleep or needs some blood work or something, then wondering if that was rude to think, and then finally praying for forgiveness before just giving in and accepting it. All the stages of grief in that one.

“It’s more rhetorical,” Karen tells him, swiping through the tablet.

“Ah.”

“I’m thinking silver and crimson. Have you planned what you’re going to be wearing? Either of you.”

“You know we haven’t,” Matt tells her.

She hums.

“Also rhetorical?” he asks.

“You got it.”

He sighs, coughing for a minute as that rattles something loose in his chest, and by the time he turns back to Karen, she has stopped staring at the tablet and is looking at him.

“I’m very glad you’re okay,” she tells him. “I hate getting those phone calls from Foggy, the ones at weird hours of the day, the ones where he doesn’t text first to let me know he’s calling, but just… calls.” She smiles shakily. “And I know that it’s not at all your fault, and I’m not saying I blame you, because that’s not it at all, just… wanted you to know how glad I am that you’re okay. How glad both of us are.”

Matt reaches a hand out in her direction, and Karen grabs it. He pats it, somewhat clumsily. “I will endeavor to only get sick or hurt during daylight hours from now on,” he tells her solemnly.

She stares at him for a second before wrenching her hand from his and swatting in his direction.

“Asshole,” she hisses.

Matt grins. “Yeah.”

“Just for that I’m getting one of those novelty cake toppers. See how much you’re laughing when it’s Iron Man and Captain America on top of your wedding cake.”

“Are you kidding, Foggy would love that.”

She considers it. “Okay, maybe not the best threat.”

She opens something new on the tablet. “Okay, guest list.”

“Fuck,” Matt hisses, collapsing into the pillows. “Uh, okay. You. Foggy’s family, of course, I don’t know how many that adds anymore, they keep breeding. We’d have to get an updated number closer to the date, because it will change. Marci. Brett. Claire. Father Lantom.”

“Is it weird if you invite the guy who’s going to marry you to your wedding?”

Matt doesn’t respond, just shifts in the bed.

“He is going to marry you, right Matt?”

Matt still doesn’t say anything, just picks at the tape securing his IV.

“Is this some sort of Catholic bullshit thing? Can you two not get married in the church? Do I need to fly to the Vatican and fistfight the Pope for equality so my two best friends can get married?”

“Please don’t do that, we can’t afford the bail,” Matt mumbles. “And I don’t know, okay. The position of the Catholic church is pretty clear on this, but a lot of times Catholic priests can perform the ceremonies if they want to.”

“From what I understand about Father Lantom, he’d definitely agree.”

“I don’t want to make this a hard choice for him,” Matt admits. “It’s one thing for him to preach about love and acceptance and support our relationship, but it’s another thing completely for him to publicly perform a marriage ceremony between two men. I don’t want to make him choose.”

“Because you’re afraid he’d choose the church over you,” Karen says, stating what he can’t.

“I know that there is so much in the Catholic Church that is broken and in need of fixing, but I can’t completely separate myself from it. There is still so much of who I am tied up in religion and I don’t think I could bear to lose Father Lantom if I made him choose, and he came down on the side of the church.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” Karen says gently.

“I don’t either, but I can’t risk that,” Matt admits. “Plus, Foggy isn’t Catholic, and I don’t want to make him do that. Even Catholics don’t like Catholic church.”

Karen hums, considering. “Okay, so maybe not a full on Catholic wedding. But maybe a smaller ceremony, performed by Father Lantom, vaguely Catholic adjacent, in a different, more agnostic location. How’s that sound?”

“I’d have to ask him.”

“Him Foggy or him Father Lantom?”

“Yeah.”

Karen rolls her eyes. Matt doesn’t have any proof of this, but knows in his soul that it’s true.

“Foggy loves you and will agree to pretty much anything short of elopement, only because his family would hate it, and I would murder both of you for doing that to his mother. I’ll talk to Father Lantom and get a feel for his thoughts about the whole thing, and then you can ask if you think that’s what you want to do.”

“I keep forgetting you know each other,” Matt mutters to himself.

“Matthew, I know everyone. Get used to it.”

The terrifying part is, he believes her.

“But… I’d rather do it. Talk to him.”

Karen nods. “Sure Matt.”

They go through a few more details, Karen making most of the decisions and Matt agreeing with her divine choices. He starts falling asleep around the time she’s muttering about venue choices, and he catches the tail end of it as she fluffs his hair and tells him to think about it as she leaves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is... timely I guess. My classes have all been cancelled/moved online because of the virus.
> 
> Protect immunocompromised people like Matt. Stay home, wash your hands, and don't steal hospital supplies.

When he wakes up, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be thinking about, but he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Catskill Mountains.”

“Um, what?” Foggy asks.

“Oh. Uh. I think Karen told me to think about something before she left.” He scratches his head, hair all fluffed up. He tries to pat it down, but it’s hopeless.

“And that’s your answer?” Foggy asks. “What did she ask you, where she should go on vacation this year? I mean, assuming we give her a vacation, which I guess we should do. I guess she didn’t get a vacation last summer, but she got one the summer before that, because we went on vacation…” Foggy mutters to himself. “Is that normal, a vacation every other year? Matt, how are we running our own business, we are not remotely capable of it.”

“She runs the business,” Matt reminds him.

“Oh right. So I guess we should let her tell us when she’s going on vacation. And I guess that extends to when we’ll be going on vacation.” Foggy considers it. “I suppose that’s fine.”

“She does schedule a lot of our life, doesn’t she?”

“I mean, she was the one who gave the final go ahead for the surgery date,” Foggy points out.

“Next thing you know she’ll be scheduling our wedding,” Matt huffs.

Foggy laughs. “Oh buddy, I like that you think she hasn’t done that already.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “…has she?”

“Not that she’s told me, but she might be playing her cards close to the vest,” Foggy admits. “I guess I should keep an eye out for weird messages from my relatives congratulating me on facebook, since that will probably be the only indication that she’s sent out wedding invitations.”

Matt shrugs. “We might just show up at work one day to find a minister there.”

“Well she’d better invite my whole family too, otherwise they’ll have words.”

“The office isn’t big enough for that,” Matt muses. “She’d have to get us from the office to somewhere else, if she planned it as a surprise, and at that point it just seems like too much work.”

“Oh she knows she can’t get me to any secondary location,” Foggy says seriously.

Matt nods. “Street smarts.”

“When will John Mulaney bless us with a new Netflix special?” Foggy wonders, and Matt can’t help but agree.

* * *

His blood tests continue to improve and his chest x-ray starts to clear up. He’s switched from a mask to nasal prongs, and is told that if he holds his sats overnight he shouldn’t need the oxygen in another day or so, and from there it’s almost a direct line to going home.

He’s still exhausted and has no appetite, which might be because of the hospital food, but he is ready to be anywhere else.

* * *

Foggy is at court when Claire comes to visit him. Matt didn’t know that she’d been told he was in the hospital. Now that Matt wasn’t getting injured on a nightly basis, they didn’t see as much of each other.

“You don’t work here anymore,” Matt says, a bit surprised that she’d come visit him without the convenience of already being in the building.

“Nice to see you too,” Claire tells him.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. I just never thought…”

“I know. Catholic guilt and all that.”

Matt grumbles.

“Although I hear you’re getting better with that.”

Matt sighs. “Karen?”

“Yep. She knows everyone, doesn’t she?”

“Unfortunately.”

Claire sits down in the seat that Foggy recently vacated. He has a sneaking suspicion that this visit was set up. “So how are you doing?”

“Well, you know. New kidney, immunocompromised, influenza and pneumonia,” Matt tells her, counting them off on his fingers. “I think that’s all since we’ve talked?”

She scoffs and pushes him gently. “I did come to see you after the transplant, both of you. We talked a bit. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were extremely medicated. You did tell me that you were engaged, which I was interested to find was a very recent development. Only you would propose fresh out of surgery.”

Matt grins and shrugs. “What can I say? I was feeling the love.”

“You were feeling the morphine,” she corrects.

He waves a hand. “Bit of both.”

“I’m happy for you, really I am. I didn’t think this was where your life was headed when I met you, but I think it’s much better than anything I could have dreamt up.”

“Yeah, well when you met me I was mostly dead. You probably thought I was headed to prison or the morgue, maybe both.”

“Bloody and alone,” she says softly. “I worried that’s where you were headed, certainly. But now you’re engaged, and so happy. I can see it all over your face.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I am happy. Prefer to not be in the hospital, but like they keep telling me, I’m lucky, so…” he trails off, uncertain about where he was going with that.

“I’m assuming I’ll be invited to the wedding?” Claire asks.

“Of course. Karen is handling… basically everything, bless her, and your name was one of the first on the list.”

“God bless Karen Page indeed,” Claire agrees. “I dread to think what a wedding planned by Matt Murdock would look like.”

“Well, there wouldn’t be any decorations, for a start. Also we’d probably elope.”

“Sounds about right. I’m guessing that wouldn’t go over well with his family?”

“Oh no. Or Karen.”

Claire nods thoughtfully. “I can see that.” She considers for a minute. “And his family is supportive?”

“They love me. More than they love Foggy, he likes to tell me, which I hardly think is true. But no, they’re great. Foggy has always been open about his sexuality, and honestly, they thought we were a couple the first time he brought me home for Christmas. Just thinking about how stupid the both of us were…” he shakes his head. “We could have had so many more years together.”

“It sounds like you were together,” Claire comments.

“Yeah, but not like this,” Matt admits, spinning the ring on his finger. Claire clocks the motion.

“He give you that?”

Matt laughs. “Yeah, funny story. We both ended up getting each other the same rings, engraved with the same braille and everything. And Karen knew, of course.”

Claire shook her head. “You’re literally soulmates, you know that right? That’s what this means.”

Matt blushes a little and ducks his head. “Maybe. My priest might have had some thoughts about that. Foggy thought it was some sort of heavenly sign that we were a perfect match for the kidney,” he explains.

“You were a perfect match?” Claire asks. “Jesus, do you know how rare that is?”

“Oh yeah. Foggy made sure to tell me when he told me he could give me a kidney.”

“Yeah, I’m with him on this one. There’s something holy about that.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Okay, sure.”

“What did your priest say?”

“Something about rocks. A verse that he made up, so it wasn’t technically true. Then he pointed out that even if we weren’t dating, Foggy still would have given me a kidney, so even if we weren’t soulmates, we were meant to be in each other’s life, and be important to each other, and the fact that we fell in love didn’t lessen that, but rather strengthened it. Or something along those lines, I don’t remember exactly.”

“Wow,” Claire says. “I can’t wait to meet him. I’m guessing he’ll be at the wedding?”

“Yeah,” Matt tells her, the phrasing of her question meaning he doesn’t have to lie. Father Lantom would most likely be there, but his role would be uncertain.

“So where’s Foggy now?” Claire asks, like she doesn’t already know.

“Court. Same with Karen. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here.”

She grins. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”

Matt shrugs. “I do have a track record of panicking and making poor choices when I’m left alone in the hospital, so he’s probably right to be worried.”

“Well, at least you have some level of insight.”

Matt shrugs. “I’ve been to therapy.”

Claire laughs. “Oh sure you have.”

“I have,” he says defensively. “It was one session, to get on the transplant list.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Claire agrees.

“Anyway, you wanna play go fish?” Matt asks, holding up a deck of cards. “Foggy brought the braille cards.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she tells him seriously.

“I dare you to,” he shoots back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I should have mentioned. Soundtrack for this fic includes a lot of Mitski songs. Guess which one heavily inspired a scene in this chapter.  
> Also, most of Catholicism does not spark joy, so I yeeted it.

He’s home two days later. His lung function is still garbage, but his vital signs are good and there’s nothing they can do in the hospital that he can’t do at home without the huge risk of opportunistic infections.

As soon as he recovers from the journey up the stairs, he insists on taking a shower. Over a week of hospital has not been kind to him. Bed baths could only do so much.

“You can barely stand up,” Foggy protests.

“Then I’ll sit in the shower,” Matt replies.

Foggy mutters to himself. “Yeah, and drown yourself.”

Matt opens his mouth to protest and Foggy cuts him off.

“Okay just give me a minute. I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Foggy ends up shoving one of the kitchen chairs in the shower so he can sit without having to stay on the floor and somehow drown. (Matt doesn’t know how it would happen, but it was a real concern to Foggy, apparently.)

He just sits under the water for the first few minutes, enjoying it.

“Done?” Foggy asks.

“I haven’t even washed my hair yet,” Matt says, but he can feel exhaustion pulling at him already.

Foggy sighs. “Want some help with that?” he asks fondly.

Matt beams at him.

Foggy’s gentle fingers on his scalp almost puts him to sleep, but the water turns off before he can slip away entirely.

“Come on,” Foggy tells him. “I can’t carry you to bed. I need a bit of help.”

Matt hums and allows himself to be toweled off and dressed and led to bed, where he immediately falls deeply asleep.

The next week passes. He naps a lot. Foggy refuses to let him go back to work no matter how much he protests.

One day, after he’s already napped, and Foggy is at work, he takes a cab to church. There’s a conversation he should probably have sooner than later.

The church is empty except for a single heartbeat near the front. Matt approaches him but doesn’t say anything.

“Hello Matthew,” Father Lantom greets. “I heard you were unwell.”

“Karen?”

“Indeed.”

Matt selects a nearby pew and sits. Every inch of him wants to run away, pick a fight, use his fists instead of his words, because that’s a fight he might be able to win.

Because he doesn’t think he can win this one.

“You have something you want to discuss?”

Matt nods wordlessly.

“And I’m guessing it has something to do with the ring on your finger.”

Matt reaches for it. He’d forgotten it was there. He does that a lot with visual clues, forgets that other people can see them.

He runs his finger over the braille.

“Yeah,” he says softly.

“Who proposed to who?”

Matt smiles. “Uh, me first, technically, then both of us at the same time. Foggy says the first time doesn’t count because we were both on a lot of pain meds.”

Father Lantom sighs and looks up at the ceiling, perhaps hoping something or someone would come to his rescue.

After a moment he turns to Matt again. “So why are you here today?”

It could be accusatory, but the way he says it is so gentle.

“Well, you’re invited to the wedding of course. Karen is doing most of the planning, so who knows when it will be. Or where.”

Father Lantom nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“And… I know what the Church’s official position is on this, the same sex marriage thing, not to mention the fact that neither of us know if he’s baptized, and certainly isn’t a practicing Catholic, and I know how much trouble you could get in if you did it, be disciplined, or even removed, but it would mean a lot to us, to _me,_ if you could marry us. Maybe not in the eyes of the Church, but… the eyes of God, surely.”

Matt wishes that looking away could hide Father Lantom’s face from him, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Matt starts planning his escape. He’s probably not well enough to get to the roof, but there’s always the back door.

“Oh Matthew,” he sighs. “At this point in my life, there’s not much the Church can do to me. Discipline me? Remove me? I’m an old man, and I’ve seen a lot of things. Done a lot of things, things that I haven’t always been proud of. You know I was in Rwanda?”

Matt nods.

“I was there during the genocide. Or, the start of it at least. I’d been there for most of the Civil war, hard to remember the exact dates now. But the genocide… You asked me if I believed in the Devil, and I told you that story about Gahiji. And it was true, that I saw the Devil in the man that killed him. But that wasn’t the only village I was in, that wasn’t the only time I saw the militia killing Tutsi, or forcing their neighbours to do it. And by not opposing it, we were complicit. Thousands of people, men women children, Hutu and Tutsi alike, were seeking refuge in a church. They used bulldozers to knock down the building and killed everyone who tried to escape. But we left. That was one single event, one single time. Hundreds of thousands of people were slaughtered, and the Church did nothing, our government did nothing. I did nothing.”

He takes a breath.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t exactly relevant to what you asked, but I’m working back around to it.”

Matt nods.

“I have been in the Church a long time Matthew. I know too many of its dark secrets to believe that what it says is absolute. Men, _people,_ should not deign to speak for God, and yet that is what they try to do. I am aware of the position of the Church. I am aware of the possible consequences. I know what I am supposed to tell you, what I am supposed to do, how we should move forward from this. But I do not care. If you want me to marry you, I will. We can do it in the church, or you can choose somewhere else. It can be a Catholic ceremony or you can pick and choose what parts you want, what both of you want. And it may not be a marriage in the eyes of the Church, but you are correct in saying it will be a marriage under the eyes of God. And New York State, if that was a concern,” he adds.

Matt doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry.

He thinks he’s doing both.

By the time he gets home, Foggy is home from the office and is near frantic.

“Where were you? The whole point of not coming to work was so you could rest, not run around the city and-”

He stops when he sees Matt’s face, which is probably still tear streaked and yet overjoyed.

“What happened?”

“He agreed. He said yes Foggy, he’ll marry us.”

“You went to church?” Foggy asks, sounding a bit surprised.

“Where did you think I went?”

Foggy shrugs. “I dunno. I worried your fever spiked and you were out parkouring across the rooftops again.”

“I haven’t had a fever in six days,” Matt tells him.

“Don’t worry me like that again,” Foggy says. They both know he will. “Love you.”

And Matt kisses him instead of responding.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Gotta put autistic characters in all of my fics. I Gotta.

Matt gets better as the weather does, which is to say in fits and starts with plenty of bad days. He still tires easily, but he insists on going back to work in March. After all, he just sits at a desk. It’s not like he’s doing much physical activity.

Foggy kindly doesn’t comment when he falls asleep at his desk, one hand still on his braille display

By April he feels back to normal and his workload matches that of Foggy’s. Matt pushes down the guilt that threatens to spring up whenever he thinks about it, and focuses on the documents for the most recent case. The case had been settled out of court, and the client was pleased.

Foggy pokes his head in Matt’s office. It’s early, Karen’s not even in the office yet. “Hey, we’ve got new clients coming in this morning. Brett gave them our card when they were in the precinct recently. Mom is trying to keep custody of her daughter, dad is verbally and emotionally abusive but because he isn’t physically abusive, mom can’t prove it. She was served with the papers yesterday.”

“How old’s the daughter?”

“Around five I think? Maybe a little older. Brett wasn’t too sure either. ”

Matt nods. “Okay. What time are they coming?”

“Around 10, although she explained that they might be a bit late.”

“Okay, no problem. I’m free all morning, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve got that meeting around 11, which you already said you aren’t coming to, and we don’t have any other clients coming in til this afternoon.”

“Perfect.”

* * *

Foggy greets them when they arrive. He explains that Matt will be doing most of the work up front with this one, but he would be available for court and anything else they needed.

Matt focuses on the girl. She’s probably around six, small for her age, and is humming to herself.

Foggy calls him out to the waiting room to introduce them.

“Hey Matt, this is Rosie Perez, and her mother, Amalia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Matt says, holding out a hand for Amalia to shake. “Is it alright if I call you Amalia?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve got to attend another meeting, but Matt will fill me in on everything, okay? Take care guys.”

“Thank you Mr Nelson,” Amalia tells him.

“Hello Rosie,” Matt says, leaning over and holding his hand out.

Rosie doesn’t take it.

“Oh, sorry, Rosie is autistic, so she might not talk to you. She’s anxious when meeting new people,” Amalia explains. “That’s also part of the reason her father shouldn’t have custody of her. He doesn’t understand.”

Matt nods. “Good to know. Will she be alright out here in the waiting room? Karen would be happy to keep an eye on her.”

Amalia considers it. “She’s very well behaved. She should be fine.” She gets Rosie settled on one of the chairs, some kind of tablet on her lap that she pokes at.

Matt smiles. “Thanks Karen,” he says, as he and Amalia head into the interview room. He closes the door behind her.

“Is it alright if I record this meeting? That way my partner can listen to it later and make notes. You can say no, but it means you might have to come back a few more times in case he has questions that I can’t answer.”

“No, that’s fine,” she agrees.

“So, can you tell me a bit more about your husband?” Matt asks.

Amalia sighs and fiddles with her skirt, but does finally speak.

“I met Carlos when I was 19. He told me he loved me and I believed him. It seemed like he did anyway. By the time I was 20 I was pregnant.”

“With Rosie?”

She nods. “Yes. She was born a few weeks early, and was the most beautiful, tiniest thing I’d ever seen. Carlos didn’t really like being a father. He complained about her crying, about the expenses, about the fact that I wasn’t working because I was caring for her. When Rosie started school, the teacher told us that there was something wrong with her. And we’d noticed a few things, like how she played, and aversions to textures, and how she liked to repeat phrases from tv shows. Her pediatrician diagnosed her with autism, and Carlos… he was furious. He said it was my fault, that I did something wrong during the pregnancy, or took care of her wrong. He’d been emotionally abusive to me before then, but it really started to get bad afterwards.”

“Was he ever physically abusive to either of you, even once?”

“Yes,” she admits. “He hit me a few times, around that time. But he apologized immediately, said he lost his temper, that he would never do it again.”

“But he did.”

“Yes. Things got a bit better after that. Rosie had occupational therapy and a support worker at school. We learned how to make things easier for her at home, what things would cause a meltdown, what things could soothe her. But things started to get worse again a few months ago. She’s been struggling in school this year, in a different grade with a different teacher, and her support worker is only half time. I’d been getting calls to come pick her up because no one could calm her down at school, and Carlos hated that, said I shouldn’t indulge her, but force her to stick with it.” She shakes her head. “He still doesn’t understand her.”

“Can you elaborate a bit by what that means?”

“When she gets home from school, she needs a bit of quiet time to unwind. She has a hard time with all the noises at school. I usually let her play in her room or on her tablet until dinner, and then we work on things together after that. They don’t really have homework yet, but we read together and talk about what she learned that day. Carlos hates this. He thinks she should be helping me make dinner or cleaning or working on homework as soon as she gets home from school, but she can’t handle that. If he tries to make her, she has a meltdown, and then the whole evening is ruined.”

“Can you explain what a meltdown is like?”

“Well, for Rosie, it usually involves crying. If Carlos tries to grab her or touch her when she’s upset, she’ll scream. Sometimes she’ll scratch or hit in an attempt to get him to stop, which just makes him angrier. This can last for hours, if he makes it worse.”

“What helps her?”

“Quiet time, usually in a dark room. Rocking helps. Sometimes she likes cuddles, or other times like to be wrapped in blankets. Music can help, if she’s in the mood for it, but it has to be exactly what she has in mind, otherwise it just upsets her more.”

“And I’m guessing Carlos either doesn’t respect those needs or actively works against them.”

“Yes,” Amalia says, sounding relieved he understands.

“And my partner told me he served you papers.”

“Yes.” She rustles around in her purse and pulls them out. “Do you want me to read them to you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m familiar with them. I’ll get Karen to photocopy the form before you leave for our file.”

“He wants full custody of her, with no visitation for me. That can’t happen, please Mr Murdock, that would hurt Rosie so much. He doesn’t understand her or her needs and would only make things worse. I’d worry that he’d start hurting her the first time she has a meltdown with him.”

“Have you always been the primary caregiver?”

She nods. “Yes, Carlos has always been working.”

“And are you living with him now?”

“No, Rosie and I are living with my sister. We moved out a few weeks ago.”

“That’s good. Does he know where you’re living?”

“I didn’t tell him, but he knows about my sister and where she lives, so it’s possible.”

Matt nods, considering. “Okay, this part is important. You need to tell the school that you are currently divorcing her father and are fighting for custody, and that he cannot take her from school. He can’t sign her out, can’t pick her up, can’t drop into her class. We can draft a letter on our letterhead if you’d like, and you can drop it off at her school. It doesn’t sound like he’ll try to take her, but it could happen, and I want to make sure we do everything we can to prevent that, alright? Once that’s done, my partner and I will work on your court case. Because you’re the primary caregiver and have an understanding of her disability and support needs, it shouldn’t be difficult to get full custody, and we will do everything we can to make sure that happens. It’s possible he’ll get visitation, but we’ll do our best to limit it or ensure it’s supervised visitation. How does that sound?”

“Very good, thank you,” she says softly.

They spend a bit longer chatting about the process, and Matt answers her questions. Then they head out to the waiting room where Rosie is still playing on her tablet.

“Hey Karen, can you pull up the template for the custody battle letter? We’re going to give one to Amalia for Rosie’s school.”

“Sure.”

Matt texts Foggy while Amalia and Karen fill in the blanks of the letter, letting him know the meeting went well and that this case should be fairly straightforward. By the time Foggy texts him back with a variety of emojis and his plaintext description, Karen is printing off copies of the letter for Amalia.

“Rosie, it’s almost time to go,” she warns her daughter. She turns back to Matt and Karen. “Transitions are hard. Giving her some warning helps.”

“Make sure the school office gets a copy of that, along with her teachers and support workers. We’ll call you if anything changes, but otherwise, Karen set up your next meeting, and both my partner and I will talk with you then.”

She nods, smiling. “Come on Rosie, time to go home.”

Rosie sighs, a very big sigh for a little girl, but allows her mother to take the tablet and tuck it in her purse.

“Thank you Mr Murdock,” Amalia says, taking Rosie’s hand.

“No problem,” Matt tells her.

“Thank you Mr Murdock,” Rosie echoes. It startles Matt a bit.

“You’re very welcome Rosie,” he tells her.

He listens to the two of them head all the way to the street, Amalia telling Rosie what they were going to do once they got home, and Rosie asking the occasional question that usually tended to be one of her mother’s phrases echoed back at her.

“She’s adorable,” Karen says, when Matt turns his attention back to her. “Are you and Foggy gonna have kids?”

Matt chokes, and excuses himself into his office to recover from the mere thought.


	14. Chapter 14

That afternoon, Matt does some research about precedents for the case. When he realizes his knowledge of autism is woefully lacking, he does some research on that first. He finds a lot of information, more than he bargained for, and wading through it is daunting to say the least. The sensory issues he understands intimately, and he feels for Rosie, who likely also lives in a world that is too loud, too close, too much.

Some of the symptoms seem… almost commonplace, things that Matt has experienced before, and he wonders if there is anything to the discussions about it being over-diagnosed. He mentions this to Foggy at lunch, and he and Karen share a look that expresses something that Matt can’t quite understand.

Karen clears her throat. “Actually I think diagnostic rates have gone down since the new criteria.”

He doesn’t think that’s what the shared look meant, but he’s not sure he wants to push the subject.

Matt leaves the office early to pick up dinner at an out of the way Italian restaurant who they’d gotten off a possession charge, and who was determined to pay them back in pasta. Matt didn’t actually mind it, because the food was great.

He hears Foggy and Karen start talking as he leaves, but they don’t say anything interesting, and he feels like it’s invasive to focus on it too much, so he turns his attention to the traffic, and narrowly avoids getting hit by a car. Typical New York.

* * *

In the next few days, Matt contacts the forensic evaluator who has been assigned to the case, and checks where that process is at. He finds out that the evaluator would be visiting Amalia and Rosie in the next few days to assess Amalia’s competency as Rosie’s primary caregiver. He also reaches out to Rosie’s school for two reasons, first to make sure the paperwork was in place to prevent Carlos from visiting or picking her up from school, and second to request something in writing from Rosie’s teachers about how Amalia provided a stable environment that would allow Rosie to thrive.

* * *

Matt had warned Amalia that the process could take a long time, months even, but the report from the forensic evaluator is delivered to him less than a month later, with positive results.

He phones Amalia immediately.

“Hello?” a woman answers.

“Hello, is this Amalia?” he asks, cradling the phone between his head and shoulder as he tries to stuff his files into his bag.

“No, who is this,” the voice demands.

“My name is Matt Murdock, I’m Amalia’s lawyer. Are you her sister?”

“Yes,” she replies. “You’re the one who’s helping her get custody of Rosie?”

“My partner and I, yes. Is she there? Can I speak with her?”

“It’s not a good time right now. She’s comforting Rosie.”

“Sure thing. Can you ask her to call me back when she gets a chance? She has my cell number. Any time before midnight is fine.”

“I will tell her,” she agrees, and hangs up.

That task done, Matt focuses all of his energy into stuffing the files into his bag. Maybe he needs a bigger bag. Or less files.

* * *

Amalia calls him later that night when he’s at home watching a movie with Foggy. He gets him to pause it so he can answer.

“Hello?”

“Mr Murdock. It’s Amalia. Cristina said you called.”

“Hello Amalia, I did call you. Is Rosie doing better now?”

“Yes, she’s asleep. It was a difficult few days for her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. The good news is that we received a copy of the forensic evaluator’s report, and she spoke highly of you. Based on her observations, the notes from Rosie’s teachers, and the report from her pediatrician, she’s recommending you for sole custody, with her father having supervised visitation. The judge will definitely take her recommendations into consideration when they make their decision.”

“This is good news?”

“Yes,” Matt confirms. “Very good news. It’s not official, but is a great indicator for you.”

“Oh wonderful,” Amalia breathes. “That almost makes it worth the stress for Rosie.”

“I’m sorry this process has been stressful for her.”

“Hopefully once it’s over, her life can go back to normal,” Amalia says, wistful.

“Hopefully,” Matt agrees. “We will see you in a few days for court, but if you have any questions before then, feel free to call me at the office, or at this number.”

“Thank you Mr Murdock.”

“No problem.”

He hangs up, and snuggles back into Foggy’s shoulder, indicating for him to start the movie again.

“You really like that kid, don’t you?” Foggy asks.

“I mean, yeah, she’s pretty cute. And her mother definitely deserves to have custody.”

Foggy hums. “And it seems like things will work out, which isn’t always the case even when people deserve things.”

“That’s why our work is important,” Matt hums, turning his attention back to the movie.

Foggy hums in return and starts playing with Matt’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> matt, researching autism for this case he's doing: well that just sounds like a normal thing. hell, I do that.  
> foggy, backing away slowly and not blinking:  
> matt: huh what a weird coincidence  
> out of matt's earshot, foggy and karen have a hissed conversation  
> foggy: I thought you talked about this with him  
> karen: me? you're marrying him  
> foggy: okay but consider this. I'm a coward


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a final chapter count! And most of them are written!
> 
> Also an update, there will be at least 2 sequels after this, one a short bonus scene that popped into my head, and another longer fic.

Matt fusses too much with his outfit for court, until they’re almost running late and Foggy has to drag him down the stairs while he ties the third tie that he figured would best match the shirt he’s wearing. Foggy kisses him before sending him off in the cab, telling him he looks great, and that he’d talk to Matt in a few hours after his meeting. It’s possible he’s stressing too much about this, but he hasn’t been to court in ages, between the kidney disease, surgery, and subsequent illnesses, and feels like he has to prove himself.

He shouldn’t have worried.

The court visit is short and sweet. Rosie plays on a tablet the whole time, and the judge asks Carlos and Amalia a few questions to clarify the content of the documents.

And then Amalia is given full custody of Rosie. Carlos gets supervised visitation twice a month.

Matt is mostly there to look official, since Amalia’s emotional support is covered, more or less, by her sister Cristina. Carlos isn’t happy with the decision, and huffs out, not bother to stay to talk with Amalia or even say hello to his daughter.

After they leave the courtroom, Amalia sits Rosie down on a nearby bench with Cristina so she can pull Matt aside.

“Thank you so much Mr Murdock. Sergeant Mahoney said your firm would be able to help, and I’m so glad he recommended you. And I know we talked about cost a bit, but now that it’s finished I was hoping you could give me a more concrete estimate.”

“Amalia, please. My partner and I take a couple pro-bono cases every few months. We both agreed yours was especially deserving. We know as a single mom leaving an abusive partner, it’s been hard for you, so we don’t want you to have to worry about it.”

“You’re joking,” she says.

Matt shakes his head. “Nope.”

“But I have some money, surely you can let me pay you something-”

Matt holds up a hand. “Obviously we can’t stop you if you feel obligated to pay us, but we’d both much rather see you spend that money on Rosie. And if you really feel indebted to us…” Matt shrugs. “We’d love regular updates. Maybe a holiday card? We’re working up quite a collection.”

It was true. There were a number of clients, pro bono and otherwise, who sent them holiday cards every year now. Mrs Zimmerfield also sent a fruitcake every year, which Matt had taken to bringing to church, since no one in the office would eat it. Everyone at church seems to enjoy it, so he supposed it was a win.

“Of course,” Amalia says. “Of course. Thank you, so much.”

Matt grins. “No problem.”

“I should be getting Rosie home. I promised her waffles for dinner.”

She turns back to the bench where Rosie and Cristina had been seated, but neither of them were there.

Amalia hums. “Where did they get to?”

There are footsteps behind Matt, footsteps that he thinks belong to Cristina, but it’s her alone, no little girl with her, and he doesn’t want to think it’s her because of the implications of that.

“Cristina, where’s Rosie?” Amalia demands.

The footsteps pass by Matt. “I left her right… there,” she says, standing in front of the empty bench. “She was playing a game and I had to run to the washroom. I thought you had an eye on her.”

“My back was to her!” Amalia says. “How could I have seen her!”

“I’m sorry. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Why would she leave, especially when she had her tablet. And then to leave it behind?” Amalia muses, picking the tablet up. “She was in the middle of a game.”

“Am, is it possible that she would go with Carlos?”

“She’d barely go anywhere with me in the middle of a game, and certainly not anywhere with Carlos.”

It seems like Matt will have to be the one to say it, to put voice to a thought that they are all having.

“Could he have taken her?”

“Oh god,” Amalia whispers. “No, please.”

But she squeezes her eyes closed tightly, and nods.

Matt sets off down the hall, gesturing for them to follow him as he strides to the security desk.

“Did you see a little girl come by here in the past few minutes?” Matt demands. “This tall.”

The security guard nods. “Yeah, she was with… her dad I think? Dark hair, dark eyes, around six feet.”

“You’re going to need to pull up whatever security footage of them you have,” Matt tells him. “He kidnapped her.”

The guard swears and picks up a phone.

Matt returns to Amalia and Cristina, seated nearby.

“The guard saw a girl and a man leave. We have to assume it was Carlos and Rosie.”

“Oh god,” Amalia says, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“Do you know where he would take her?”

She shakes her head. “No, maybe to the apartment? But he’d have to think that’s the first place I would look.”

“Does he have any relatives?”

“His mother died last year, and most of his family lives in Chicago.”

“Has he started seeing anyone? Does he have any friends, coworkers?”

“Oh no,” Cristina says from beside Amalia.

“What?” Amalia demands. “What is it?”

“I didn’t think it was true, because your divorce wasn’t finalized yet, but my girlfriend, Talia, you know from work? She told me the other day that she saw Carlos in her building with a woman. I figured she was making it up, or was confused, because she’d only met him like once. She only figured it was him because he was talking about Rosie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Amalia asks, desperate.

“Because I didn’t think it was true, or important! I didn’t think Carlos was such a fucking idiot that he would try to kidnap Rosie, and I certainly didn’t think he’d be talking about it with some woman who lives in Talia’s building.”

“Does your friend know the woman’s name? What is the address of the building? Did she hear anything else?” Matt demands in rapid fire succession.

“No, she didn’t mention the woman’s name. And-”

Cristina stops, heart rate increasing. “Oh my god. Talia mentioned it to me, because she heard them talking about taking Rosie on a trip, which she thought was stupid, because obviously he couldn’t take Rosie on a trip, not in the middle of a custody battle and divorce, and sorry Amalia, I did tell her about the divorce, even though you asked me not to spread it around.”

“A trip where?” Amalia begs.

Cristina swallows. “Mexico.”

“Address,” Matt demands, and as soon as he gets it, starts off briskly down the hallway, phoning Foggy on his way.

“Hey Foggy no time to talk. You need to call the police, tell them to get to this address, and start going door to door looking for Rosie. Her father has taken her, and was overheard talking about a trip to Mexico with a new girlfriend.”

Foggy swears. “Okay, and what are you going to do?”

Matt squares his jaw, saying a tiny prayer that Foggy won’t hate him for what he says next. “I’m going to find her.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there's an ableist slur in this chapter (the R word). I know it can be jarring to see, especially without warning, so this is a heads up!

The Daredevil suit is no longer in their apartment, instead having been sent to the Nelson house, where it was locked in a suitcase and placed in the attic with the label ‘Foggy’s childhood artwork’. Mrs Nelson was too sentimental to ever throw that away, even if she didn’t remember putting it in a locked suitcase.

With that option out of the equation, Matt returns to an old classic. Black fabric pulled down over his face.

When he has it on, he aches a little with how much he’s missed this, missed being Daredevil. And at the same time, he knows it wasn’t good for him. Time and distance allows him to recognize that. But now, with his fists wrapped and his face covered, it feels like coming home.

He sets out across rooftops to the address that Cristina told him. He’s half expecting police to already be there, but he knows that it would probably be another hour before they’d show up, getting slowed down by the explanation and details of the custody battle before ever sending out an amber alert. Hell, this might not even meet the criteria for an amber alert if they don’t think Rosie is in danger.

But Matt is certain she is. Carlos doesn’t understand his daughter, and is prone to violence when agitated. Rosie’s confusion at being taken from her mother, and moved to new places with new people and no semblance of warning or routine would no doubt upset the girl, if Matt has to guess. She would likely have a meltdown, Carlos would grow frustrated, and then violent. Matt has no idea if the other woman would be involved or not, and if she was, what role she might play.

He tucks into a roll as he lands on an adjacent rooftop and picks up the pace.

* * *

On the roof of the address, Matt stills himself and strains to listen for Rosie or Carlos. It’s more likely he’ll hear Carlos, since Rosie is usually quiet, but if she’s upset, might be louder than usual. He starts with the floor nearest him, dismissing voices and heartbeats as he goes, and working his way down.

It’s on the fifth floor that he hears crying, and underneath that crying, an argument. Matt recognizes one of the voices as Carlos, and assume the other is the girlfriend.

“You stole this girl from her mother!” the woman shouts.

“No, that is my daughter, and I am taking her back from that bitch,” Carlos retorts.

“From court! Right after a judge granted custody to her mother. How could you be so stupid?”

“You wanted to come with us. You thought a trip to Mexico sounded great. Work on your tan or whatever you said.”

“When I didn’t think it would get me arrested,” she hisses.

“Oh come on, that’s not going to happen. As soon as we get across the border they won’t be able to find us.”

“And what if Rosie says something? What if she tells the nice border agent that she’s supposed to be with her mother in New York, hmm?”

Carlos scoffs. “She won’t do that. You’ve met her. She’s retarded. She barely talks.”

Matt’s heard enough.

He scales down the fire escape, to the apartment where Carlos is currently arguing with the woman. The crying is coming from deeper in the apartment, which works for him. He doesn’t want Rosie to have to see this.

He slides the window open and slips through. Carlos and the woman are both still arguing, and the noise of Rosie’s sobs covers any noise he might be making.

He doesn’t bother to make it fancy, doesn’t do any tricks, just runs up behind Carlos, spins him around, and knocks him out before he can say anything.

The women gapes at him, but doesn’t make a move to strike at him. “Daredevil?” she asks.

Matt ignores that. “I’m here to take that girl back to her mother.”

The woman nods, speechless. “I didn’t know what he was doing, I swear.”

Matt believes her.

He follows the sounds of crying into the bedroom and into a closet, where he locates Rosie, arms wrapped around herself, body heaving, rocking back and forth.

He turns back to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Carmen.”

She’s lying, but Matt doesn’t care.

“Call the police, tell them you came home to find your boyfriend here with his daughter. Tell them he told you he planned to kidnap her and run away, and you fought and managed to knock him out. Don’t mention me.”

She nods and disappears, leaving Matt alone with Rosie.

He tries to recall what Amalia told him calmed Rosie down when she was like this.

 _Darkness_.

He gets up and flicks the lights off, a humming disappearing along with them.

_Quiet._

Well, the absence of arguing certainly helped.

_Music sometimes._

He really couldn’t do anything about that.

_Rocking or being cuddled._

Rosie already had the rocking part down, but Matt could theoretically…

What was it about the cuddling that Rosie liked? Something about the tightness and the pressure was soothing to her. Amalia had mentioned a weighted blanket at one point, but there obviously wasn’t one of those available.

“Hey Rosie,” he says softly. “I’ve come to bring you back to your mommy.”

Rosie doesn’t respond. It doesn’t seem like she can.

“I know you’ve had a really scary day, and you’re tired and hurt and want to go home, and I promise, that’s going to happen very soon.”

He can hear not-Carmen on the phone with the police in the kitchen, sticking to the story Matt gave her.

“I know you like being squeezed when you’re upset. Do you want me to squeeze you?”

She doesn’t say anything, just keeps rocking. Her cries have at least quieted down a bit, closer to sobs than hysterics.

 _Well shit,_ he figures, and pulls up his mask. He doesn’t know how light it is in the room after he turned out the lights, but she should be able to recognize him at least.

“Hey Rosie, it’s Mr Murdock. We met, remember? I was helping your mom.”

Rosie stills for a minute. Her sobs have turned to sniffles and hiccups.

“Would you like me to squeeze you and rock, like your mom does?” he asks her.

She sniffles and nods.

Matt squeezes himself in the closet behind her, pulling her onto his lap and holding tightly. When she seems good, he starts rocking, at the same pace that she was.

The phone call in the kitchen has finished, but Matt figures he has a few more minutes before the police show up and he has to leave, and if he can console Rosie at all during that time, it’s worth it.

The woman, not-Carmen, doesn’t seem inclined to return to the bedroom, but is at least staying put, which is more than Matt might have expected.

And so for a few long minutes, as Matt listens to sirens grow closer, he holds Rosie tight and rocks her. He isn’t sure what it is about the squeezing that she likes, maybe it’s about knowing where her body is, or knowing that she’s being held safely, but she calms down, and by the time the sirens stop in the street below, she’s no longer crying.

Matt stops, squeezing back out around her. He can hear Amalia’s voice in the lobby.

“Hey Rosie, your mother is here now, so I have to go, okay? She’ll take you home.”

Rosie nods. “Secret.”

“It would be nice if you didn’t tell her I was here,” Matt agrees.

“Secret,” Rosie says solemnly.

Matt smiles and pulls the fabric back down over his face. He can hear Amalia and a few officers in the hallway, and he makes it onto the fire escape just as they knock on the door. He climbs a few floors up as he hears Amalia reuniting with Rosie, and by the time he makes it back onto the roof, Carlos is waking up in handcuffs. Thankfully, Amalia has Rosie clutched close to her chest in the hallway, holding her tight as they wait for the elevator.

On the street, Foggy has arrived, and is explaining to the officer the situation with custody and why he phoned the police. By the time Amalia and Rosie make it down, the officers are done with Foggy, and he gives them a wave as they are bundled into the backseat of a car.

“Thank you Mr Murdock,” Rosie chirps.

“That’s Mr Nelson, Rosie,” Amalia explains.

“Thank you Mr Murdock,” she repeats.

Foggy shrugs at Amalia, and looks up to the roof for a brief moment, but Matt is well away from the edge, and can’t be seen.

As the car with Amalia and Rosie leaves, and Foggy attempts to grab a taxi home, Matt jumps to the adjoining rooftop, tucking into a roll as he does. There would no doubt be Words Had when he got home, but for now, the world feels right. 


	17. Chapter 17

Matt makes it home before Foggy. There’s no traffic on the rooftops, except for maybe some flocks of pigeons that usually fly away as soon as he comes parkouring towards them. The pigeons tonight seem especially stubborn, perhaps just used to not have a man jumping across their home. Honestly, you take a two year long break and the city just falls apart.

He jumps in the shower as soon as he gets the makeshift Daredevil costume hidden away, hoping that it’ll at least delay the inevitable confrontation.

He should have known better than to underestimate Foggy Nelson.

“Hey quick question Matt,” he announces loudly, bursting into the bathroom. “What the actual fuck.”

Matt makes a fruitless effort to cover himself before he realizes it’s Foggy, who’s definitely seen him naked before, which he immediately mentions.

“Dude, I’ve seen it all before. Don’t avoid the question.”

Matt shakes his head. “I can’t hear you over the running water,” he says, pointing to the showerhead.

Instead of looking at him disapprovingly for that sad excuse of a lie, Foggy instead _gets in the shower with him._

“Can you hear me now?” Foggy says.

“You’re getting your clothes wet,” Matt protests.

“No, I’m washing me and my clothes,” he retorts. “Don’t change the subject. What the actual fuck did you think you were doing tonight, and don’t try to lie to me and say you didn’t put the mask back on and go out there.”

“I wasn’t going to. But I saved her Foggy. And now she’s home safe with her mother instead of halfway to Mexico or beaten to shit because her father can’t control his temper and doesn’t understand her, or beaten to death and left at the side of the road because that man doesn’t love his daughter, and don’t try to say he does, because you weren’t there. You didn’t hear what he said about her.”

“Matty, believe me, I am so relieved and happy that she is home safe. To know that he’s in jail, and won’t be getting custody of her ever, won’t even be getting within shouting distance without going right back to jail. You know that I am.”

Matt knows what he’s going to say next, and wishes he wouldn’t. Wishes he would yell or slap him or get out of the shower and leave in his sopping clothes for two days until Matt apologizes and begs him to come back. Any of those would be easier than what he knows is coming.

“I was scared,” he admits, and Matt almost doesn’t hear him under the waterfall around his ears, but he can’t pretend he didn’t hear that. His expression makes it clear that he did.

“I was scared that you’d get hurt, or caught, or that you’d be out of practice and get beat up, or fall to your death between rooftops, or…” He takes a breath. “I think the thing I was most worried about was that you wouldn’t make it in time. That you wouldn’t be able to find her, or get to her before she was hurt, and I knew that would break you more than any physical injury could.”

Matt didn’t realize before Foggy said it, but that’s true. He’d take bullets, stab wounds, broken bones or dislocated limbs, anything over failing to rescue someone, especially a child.

Foggy knows him so well, better than he knows himself most of the time, and Matt both hates it and loves him for it.

“I found her. She’s safe. I’m safe. I came home safe,” Matt promises, holding his arms out so Foggy can see the proof of his statement.

Foggy scans him, then steps into his open arms.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

His arms feel Matt’s back, like he needs to make sure.

And then his hands slide down further.

“My butt is fine, thanks,” Matt tells him.

“I’m being thorough.”

Matt supposes that’s okay.

* * *

At some point they both make it out of the shower. Matt has no clue what time it is, but hasn’t eaten dinner yet, so Foggy phones in an order of Thai food for delivery, and they curl into each other on the couch.

Foggy turns the tv on, and scrolls through Netflix, searching for something.

One of the John Mulaney specials starts up, and they just sit quietly for a while.

They fall into bed later that night, the sex filled with desperation and urgency and the panic of _could have._ Foggy seems like he needs to catalogue every inch of Matt’s skin, just to make sure there isn’t something he missed. Matt knows that kind of need, one that is filled with yearning and fear.

* * *

In the morning, Matt makes French toast like Foggy did shortly after their first night together, and they don’t talk about it. Maybe they should, but it’s too fresh now, and instead they go to work, and Matt calls to check on Rosie and Amalia. They’re both doing well, and when he hears that, something in his chest loosens. He passes the information onto Karen, who tells Foggy, and Matt can tell how relieved he is from two rooms away. And he thinks that they’ll be okay. They’ll have to talk about it, probably when the bruises on Matt’s hips have faded somewhat, so Foggy doesn’t feel guilty about that, but there is no terror of possibility, not anymore.


	18. Chapter 18

The summer goes by quickly with court cases amidst sweltering heat, and they win a big case on the day the weather finally takes a turn. It rained while they were in court, and the air finally feels like they can breathe in it without drowning, and there’s a breeze that is almost refreshing.

When Matt and Foggy return to the office, Karen tells them they have mail.

“From who?” Matt asks.

Karen only grins and hands them an envelope.

Matt pulls out the paper inside. There are two sheets, one a handwritten note of some kind that he passes off to Foggy, and the other is construction paper with smooth markings on it. Some sort of drawing.

“Oh my god that’s adorable,” Foggy says, taking it from Matt. “The letter is from Amalia, and the drawing is a Rosie original. She captured your hair perfectly.”

There’s a hitch in his heart as he says it and Matt frowns.

“I mean it’s also bright red, but she got the mussed look perfect.”

“What’s it of?” Matt asks.

“You and me in front of our office. You can see Karen through a window, and I think that’s Rosie and Amalia holding hands nearby. She also wrote her name on it. We’ve got a signed original,” Foggy says admirably. “This is going on the fridge.”

“And I assume you won?” Karen asks, as if she didn’t already file the paperwork accordingly.

“Yep,” Matt says, beaming. Foggy moves magnets around on the fridge to hold up the artwork. “Mr Nelson and I will be going home early. There’s a movie that Foggy wants to watch, and we will be getting Chinese food. You are of course welcome to close up, and join us if you’d like.”

Matt suspects Karen is eyeing him with doubt, and she finally huffs. “I doubt this celebration is something I’d want to be present for,” she says, a hint of innuendo underriding her words.

Matt blushes. “Okay, wow, no. Fine, no Chinese food for you.”

“I will close up early. Marci asked about drinks, and now I can tell her I’m free,” Karen continues, already texting.

Matt is concerned about the relationship those two seem to be forming, but Foggy returns and grabs his hand.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

* * *

They pick up the Chinese food on the way home, and Foggy kisses him as they walk down the street arm in arm. The day is beautiful and he feels blessed and grateful and he thinks even if the movie is terrible, he won’t mind, because he’ll be watching it with Foggy.

As soon as they get home, Foggy dumps the food on the table, and Matt heads to put on sweatpants.

He’s flying high until he goes to the bathroom and immediately senses something is wrong.

He washes his hands and returns to Foggy, who is triumphant in the living room, searching for the movie on his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately upon seeing Matt’s expression.

“I’m peeing blood,” Matt says. It doesn’t sound real to him.

Foggy freezes. “What?”

“I’m peeing blood,” he repeats. He knows Foggy likely didn’t mean it as not having heard, but rather not understanding the whole situation, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” he asks, unfreezing and rushing over to him as though the touch of him could somehow fix whatever was wrong.

Matt shakes his head and moves to sit in the armchair.

“And you’re sure it’s blood?”

“I know blood Foggy.”

Foggy shakes his head. “Right, of course. So what should we do?”

“I guess call the transplant team?” he guesses.

“Yeah. Um… where is the number?”

“I think it should be at the front of the binder.”

He moves to stand up and everything turns to static. His hearing fades out, and he’s falling.

* * *

“Matty?” Foggy pleads.

Matt blinks. “What?”

“Oh my god you’re okay.”

Matt would question that assertion, but doesn’t feel like getting into it.

“What happened?”

He’s lying down, on something cool. The floor? He’s having a hard time hearing much further than his immediate surroundings, but he can tell it’s their home.

“You passed out. You just stood up and dropped.”

Matt frowns. “That’s… concerning.”

Foggy nods in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

Matt considers it. “Fine? A little sore, probably from crashing into the ground.”

He tries to sit up, but Foggy pushes him back down.

“Hey, no, stay there. There are paramedics coming.”

“That’s absolutely not necessary,” Matt tries to tell him, but Foggy is firm, both in his hold and his decision.

Matt closes his eyes and sighs. “How long was I out for?”

“About a minute.”

“I’m fine,” he tries again.

Foggy’s heartbeat picks up, and Matt cracks his eyes open in concern. “Matt do you remember what happened right before you passed out?”

Something important, by the sound of it, but he can’t quite recall.

“You told me you were peeing blood. You sat down while I found the phone number for the transplant team so we could call them and ask what to do, and when you got up, you passed out.”

“Oh,” Matt says. Some of that does sound familiar, but he still can’t quite remember it happening.

A siren suddenly enters Matt’s awareness, although he should have been able to hear it coming, then shuts off. That’d be for him.

“Why did you have to call an ambulance,” Matt whines. “I’ve been doing so well with not needing one.”

“Oh yes, how inconsiderate of me to break your no ambulance ride streak by calling one instead of carting you down endless flights of stairs by myself, I am the worst,” Foggy told him sarcastically.

Matt tries to glare at him, but he thinks extended exposure means Foggy has built up resistance, because it doesn’t work.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends! I have exciting life news! I'm going to be starting clinical placement in August! This really doesn't mean anything to you, I just wanted to share it. :)

The paramedics are kind and efficient, and agree that they don’t need to put the siren on to go to the hospital, which Matt’s ears thank them for. They do ask a lot of questions about his health, and he explains the medications, history of kidney disease, transplant, and recent infection.

“How long has there been blood in your urine?” the woman asks, whose name Matt immediately forgot.

“Just today.”

“And has this happened before?”

“Just the once, when I ruptured a cyst.”

“When was that?”

“About… two years ago? Maybe three?”

“And is this similar to that?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, that hurt a lot. This doesn’t hurt at all.”

The paramedic hums. “And you’ve been taking all your medications correctly?”

Matt nods.

She inflates the blood pressure cuff on his arm, and after a moment, switches it to the other arm.

“Do you know what your blood pressure is normally?”

“Around 120 over 70. Is it different?”

“It’s quite low. I know that can be common in some people, so I wanted to check. Have you been drinking enough lately?”

“Um, I could probably do with drinking more water, but I think I’m fairly well hydrated.”

She hums noncommittally and inflates the blood pressure cuff again.

* * *

In the ER, he’s rolled into a curtained off area and moved from the gurney to the bed. The paramedics leave and a nurse comes in to give him a bracelet and check his vital signs. Foggy has been left somewhere in the waiting room, with the promise that he can come back as soon as Matt is settled. Matt really doesn’t like the implication that he’ll be spending enough time here to get settled, but is familiar enough with how the ER works now to not question it.

He answers the same questions for the nurse about his medications and history, and gets himself a mask to wear. The last thing he needs is to get sick again, and the ER is full of sick people.

The nurse starts an IV, commenting on his low blood pressure, and disappears with a promise of finding a doctor.

He doesn’t know how long it is before someone else lets themselves into his little corner of the ER, but it’s not a doctor. They introduce themselves as an ultrasound technician and explain that they are there to check on his kidneys. They press the wand to his abdomen, the cool gel getting onto his pants, which he had been allowed to keep when he was forced to put a gown on. Small mercies, at least.

The technician hums, and asks him if certain things hurt, which they don’t, and eventually moves from Matt’s original kidneys to the transplanted one, positioned in the lower part of his abdomen.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath, praying that there’s nothing wrong with that kidney, until the technician looks up at him with concern in their voice.

“You okay?” they ask.

“Yeah I just… I need that kidney to be okay,” he admits.

“It looks healthy,” they reassure him. “The doctor is more concerned about the other kidneys, but I need to check on this one too, just to be sure.”

“And the other ones?” Matt asks.

“Hard to say. There’s a lot of cyst involvement in both, which you likely knew. The radiologist will want to review the images and make a report.”

Matt knows that’s code for ‘I can’t tell you’. He nods anyway. “Thanks.”

They help him wipe the gel away and wheel their machine out, leaving him alone again.

And he feels fine, honestly. There’s a sore spot on his elbow where he thinks he might have hit the coffee table when he passed out, and a vague sense of fatigue that could be attributed to the late nights they’ve been spending on their recent case, but there are none of the symptoms from the last time he ruptured a cyst, which is mindboggling to Matt. Which means something is different this time, or it’s something else entirely. He’s not sure which one is more concerning.

The doctor comes to see him at some point, repeats the same questions Matt told the paramedics and the nurse, and decides to send him for a CT scan. Foggy is allowed to walk with him as he’s rolled to radiology, and clutches his hand tightly as they wait for him to be called.

“You’re sure you feel okay?” he asks anxiously. “No pain?”

Matt shakes his head. “I know that you’re worried, but I couldn’t downplay this. It hurt so much last time, and this time there is nothing.”

“So it has to be something else, right? Wait, no, that’s worse,” Foggy decides.

Matt grimaces. “My thoughts exactly.”

Foggy gives him a kiss as he’s wheeled in for the scan, and Matt tries to drown out the sound of the scanner by listening for Foggy’s heartbeat.

Back in the ER, Foggy is allowed to sit with him. A nurse was in to hang another bag of fluids, since his blood pressure was apparently still low, but hadn’t said much else to him.

* * *

It’s hours later by the time anyone with answers comes to see him, and it happens to be his own doctor.

“Hello Matthew,” Dr Nadiya greets him. “Sorry to hear you’re having a difficult time again. First of all, your transplanted kidney looks great, no problems there.”

Matt and Foggy both let out a tandem sigh of relief.

“Unfortunately it does look like your right kidney has a ruptured cyst that’s bleeding. Was there any trauma that preceded this?”

“It’s bleeding?” Matt asks.

“Yes,” she confirms, checking her notes. “You had a similar event in that kidney before, right?”

“But, last time it hurt,” he says, dumbfounded. It hurt so much last time that he can’t believe it doesn’t hurt at all this time. Maybe a slight pressure, but nothing like before. That pain knocked him down and stole his breath and then took his wallet while he was gasping.

Dr Nadiya sounds sympathetic. “Yes, that was because last time the hemorrhage built up quite a bit and the blood collecting inside your kidney caused the pain. This time most of the blood is flowing into the collecting system, meaning you have less pain, but there is a lot more blood in your urine.”

Matt doesn’t know a lot about how the body works, but figures that probably makes sense.

“We’re going to take a conservative approach again. Last time it kept bleeding to the point where you required surgery?”

Matt nods.

“Hopefully this time we can avoid that, especially so soon after your transplant.”

His transplant was like six months ago, which doesn’t feel recent, but probably is in terms of surgical timelines.

“But if this did occur without trauma, it might be worth considering removing that kidney altogether. It’s not something to worry about now, just something for the future.”

He nods. He knows nothing about this is good exactly, but last time it had hurt so much, and he was thankful that at least this time he didn’t have that to worry about.


	20. Chapter 20

He’s admitted with orders for bedrest, fluids, and strict monitoring of his urine output, with pain medication available if he needs it. He doesn’t, a fact that he tells Foggy multiple times over the course of the next few hours.

“Are you sure you don’t want the meds?” Foggy asks again.

Matt stops shifting in the bed. “Foggy, it doesn’t hurt. I’m moving around because I’m bored and the sheets are like sandpaper.”

Foggy considers him. “You sure?”

Matt resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Foggy is just doing this out of love and concern. “Promise.”

They sit in the relative quiet for a minute.

“Still blood?” Matt asks.

“Yup,” Foggy tells him.

Matt sighs.

“So, Karen asked me about a venue for the wedding,” Foggy begins.

Matt groans. “Foggy, please. Do you want me to die? Because this is an excellent way to murder me.”

“Don’t be such a baby. I of course had no idea what to tell her and stuttered about various churches before she gave up and left me alone.”

“Smart,” Matt mutters.

“But it did get me thinking about the wedding, and other things around it. Like, are we going to have a bachelor party? Two of them? That seems weird, right?”

Matt hums.

“And also, who are we supposed to invite to be in the wedding with us? How do wedding parties work?” Foggy wonders. “We’re supposed to have bridesmaids and a maid of honour on the side of the bride, and groomsmen and a best man on the groom’s side, right?”

“Except there are two of us,” Matt finishes. “I don’t think we know that many people to have double the amount of men in our wedding party. Also then we couldn’t have Karen or Claire or whoever else Karen is no doubt going to put in there.”

“We should just ask her, since she’s probably already got it planned out,” Foggy decides.

Matt shrugs. “Works for me.”

“Who would even be a best man?” Foggy continues. “Brett?”

“You know he’d hate that.”

“Oh yes, but if I invited Bess, he couldn’t refuse.”

Matt smirks.

“What if we forego all the gender norms and just… let Karen be all the parts? Karen as maid of honour, Karen as best man, Karen as the flower girl.”

“You know, with her planning, that might be what happens.” Matt considers it. “Although we could probably forget the flower girl and ring bearer thing. It’s not like we know a lot of children.”

“Ooh, I do remember hearing about a wedding where the ring bearer was a goat. Can we have a goat in our wedding Matt?”

“You find a goat and train it, sure. I feel like Karen might have something else to say about it though.”

“Shit, you right,” Foggy says quietly.

Still, he takes out his phone and searches for goats. Matt lets his hearing wander two doors over, where someone is watching a soap opera in Spanish. He’s not sure if he’s familiar with it, or if they all just seem alike.

* * *

He’s still bleeding come morning, and Dr Nadiya seems displeased at his lack of progress. She orders more bloodwork and another ultrasound.

Matt hisses threats at his body until the ultrasound tech gets there, when he stops. Out loud anyway.

_Clot or else,_ he tells his kidney.

* * *

Foggy runs into the office for a bit in the morning, so Matt has to entertain himself for most of the day. The room two doors over is still watching a soap opera in Spanish, and he’s almost invested now, so he continues listening to that. Some of the voices are hard to tell apart, and he thinks there’s a set of twins, and it’s a soap opera, so it’s not like the plot is cohesive, but he manages to follow along.

He’s deep in the drama of a paternity scandal by the time Foggy gets back.

Foggy kisses him. “How you doing? Still bleeding?”

Matt sighs. “You tell me.”

Foggy takes a look at the catheter bag. “Yup.”

“Figured. I had another ultrasound, so Dr Nadiya should be back at some point today to discuss the results.”

“How about pain?”

Matt shakes his head. “Still fine.”

Down the hall, one of the characters accuses the other of cheating on her while she was in a coma.

Dr Nadiya comes by as his dinner is being delivered, and Matt is only too happy to set it aside.

“What does the ultrasound show?” Matt asks.

“Still bleeding,” Dr Nadiya tells him. “No change. But the blood tests are more worrying. Your blood counts are getting low.”

“Will he need a transfusion?” Foggy asks, alarmed, probably remembering the last time this happened. For Matt it’s vague and impossible to remember clearly, but for Foggy, it was awful to watch.

“Not yet, and we like to avoid that, if possible. It shouldn’t be an issue with the kidney, but there is always some element of risk, and if it’s not necessary, we don’t like to do it.”

“So are we just going to keep watching and waiting?” Matt asks. He has a feeling he already knows what the answer will be.

“Yesterday I told you it might be time to consider removal of that kidney. The scans showed it’s quite enlarged, about 16 cm long. Normal kidneys are around 11 cm long. It’s difficult to tell how much functional tissue is left, but because you have the transplanted kidney, it’s really not much of a concern. The surgery would be a risk, of course, but considering this is the second cyst rupture in less than five years, and this one was atraumatic, I would urge you to consider this option. With most patients, the bleeding slows and subsides on its own, without need for intervention, but both of your bleeds have proven to be stubborn and require a more intensive approach. Surgery would mean this same situation wouldn’t happen again, at least with that kidney.”

“And what if I say no?”

“That’s within your rights to do so. We would likely give you a transfusion and then keep watching and waiting. Ideally the bleeding would begin to slow, and then stop on its own, but if not, we could perform the same procedure as last time to stop the bleeding.”

“And what would the surgery be?” Foggy asks.

“Matt is a good candidate for laparoscopic surgery, so multiple small incisions rather than an open procedure. It would reduce recovery time, pain, and scarring.”

“Yeah, cause the scarring is a huge concern of mine,” Matt says dryly.

Foggy swats at him.

Dr Nadiya’s pager beeps. “Sleep on it. By morning rounds you’ll likely need to make a decision, either way. We can book a theatre or continue to monitor you and transfuse when it comes to that.”

Matt nods, and she disappears down the hallway.

“So?” Foggy asks, nudging him. “What do you think?”

“A lot of things, historically.”

“About the surgery.”

“It seems like a good option,” he says hesitantly. “I like the thought that it means this wouldn’t happen again.”

“At least with the one kidney,” Foggy adds. “Would they do it with the other one too?”

Matt considers it. “I feel like the left kidney is better behaved. The right kidney is the problem child.”

“Ah, and you’ve got to make an example out of the one,” Foggy nods. 

“Something like that.”

“And it sounds like the recovery would be better, since the surgery would be relatively minor. More like my kidney donation.”

Matt nods thoughtfully.

“So what are you thinking?”

“Part of me feels like if I get the surgery done, I’m giving up, even though that’s ridiculous. I can’t continue to put my life on hold every time the kidney gets a little bump and decides to start bleeding everywhere. But it still feels like… defeat.”

“Hey, at least you recognize that it’s not a rational thing to be thinking. So points for that.”

“I think I want to go ahead with the surgery. It’s… definitive at least. I think we could use some of that in our life.”

“Sure,” Foggy agrees. “But I’ll support you no matter what you choose, even if it means we come here biannually.”

“Is that twice a year or every two years?” Matt wonders. “I can never remember that one. Either way, I’d rather not, so.”

Foggy nods. “So, surgery tomorrow then.”

Matt nods. “Guess that means I won’t be able to eat my dinner,” he says hopefully.

“If you want to use that as an excuse, then go for it, but I’m pretty sure it’s only after midnight.”

Matt wrinkles his nose. “I think it might be… roast beef? Or at least it was intended to be.”

“How about I run out and get us sandwiches,” Foggy says, inching Matt’s dinner tray away from them like it was hazardous waste.

“Perfect.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Just a mask with some extra oxygen on your face now Mr Murdock,” the anesthesiologist tells him. “Keep taking nice deep breaths, and we’ll get you some medication to make you sleepy.”

After a minute he can taste the gas, and there’s a stinging in his arm as medication is injected, and then he can’t tell if his eyes are open anymore or not.

“Hey. You’re out of surgery. Everything went great,” someone tells him, and Matt knows them, but their name slips away before he can attach a thought to it.

“Okay I know you’re just recently out of surgery but I did want to tell you this as soon as possible. I found the perfect venue.”

Matt frowns. “Karen?” He vaguely remembers the surgery, and the waking up. He thinks Foggy is somewhere nearby.

“Yes, hi, I’m glad you’re fine, I’m well, we can skip all that.” She holds her hands out, waiting.

“Where?”

“The Brooklyn Botanical Garden. They have a gorgeous atrium, you can have the ceremony outside near the cherry trees, or in the atrium, if you prefer that. The landscaping is gorgeous for photographs, and yes I know you don’t care, but we do. Plus there’s a fragrance garden, which is meant to be hands on. How does it sound?”

Matt frowns. “What does Foggy think?”

“Well,” Foggy says from his side, and Matt had forgotten he was there. “This is the first I’m hearing of it, but it sounds nice and I don’t have my heart set on anything else. What’s the price point?”

Karen covers his mouth with her hand. “Hush Foggy. That’s not something we talk about right now. All I want to know is if you like it.”

Matt hums. “Sounds good to me. Probably smells nice,” he adds. “Cherry trees.”

“Well, that’s a glowing recommendation if I’ve ever heard one,” Karen says brightly. “I’ll make some phone calls.”

She bustles out of the room, but after a second, sticks her head back in. “I am very glad to see you’re doing alright Matt.”

Matt gives her a thumbs up, and she disappears.

“What did we just agree to?” Foggy asks.

Matt hums. Really, he can’t take any of the blame for this. He’s heavily medicated, which he suspects Karen was hoping for.

His recovery occurs without any adverse events, and he’s home two days after surgery. Matt attempts to say that he would be ready for work in a few days, but Foggy manages to shut that down before he can get a syllable out.

So he sits at home for a week and a half and attempts to get through a single book, and at the end, has not read anything, but instead managed to make a number of tiny paper animals, and Foggy cedes he could probably come back to work as long as he stops using paperwork for his origami.

* * *

Karen comes to work the day after Matt returns to the office and announces she’s booked their wedding.

“There was a cancellation for the spring, so I snatched it up.”

Matt frowns. “How did you swing that? Usually they want at least part of the payment up front to reserve it.”

Karen waves a hand. “Don’t worry about that. Now, ideally we would have had a full year to prepare, but the way it ended up, we should be in full cherry blossom season at the end of April. Of course, it also means we’ll have to hurry with the planning process, but I’m confident I’ll be able to manage.”

“It’s August,” Matt says, with disbelief. “That’s so far away.”

“Have you ever planned a wedding before Matthew?” Karen asks sharply.

He opens his mouth to protest and thinks better of it.

“And with me being forced to drag you every step of the way, we will need this time to get ready.”

Matt sighs and wonders if it’s still too late to elope.

* * *

They visit the Botanic Gardens that fall, and even though the cherry trees are no longer blossoming, Matt can still tell that the place will be beautiful and welcoming in the spring. They’re told about different options for the ceremony, and decide on an outdoor one, beneath the cherry blossoms, which should be in full bloom if they’re lucky. They have the option to move indoors if the weather is bad, and the reception would be held in the nearby Atrium, which is a cavernous room with walls of glass and elevated ceiling.

While at the Gardens, they also take the time to visit the fragrance garden, which certainly lives up to its name. Matt can smell it before they even get close. But it’s not artificial, like so many perfumes and products are, so it’s tolerable, nice even.

The flower beds are elevated, and each label contains braille, so Matt can identify the plants and then reach out and feel them. The quadrant that boasts plants with interesting textures is probably his favourite, and he appreciates the considerations that clearly went into planning such a garden, which has to be safe for people to touch and sturdy enough that the plants won’t get damaged. His favourite is probably the bunny tail grass, which indeed boasts a fluffy bit on the top like a rabbit tail.

None of the other sections of the garden appeal much to either of them, so they leave after Matt has caressed every single flower, his hands now smelling of lemon.

(“It’s perfect,” he tells Karen the next day, and she only gloats a little.)


	22. Chapter 22

With the venue decided on, things move into high gear. Karen runs them through a menu, place settings, decorations, flowers, guest list (which was still being hotly debated), and invitations (which had yet to go out, due to the aforementioned hotly debated list.)

Then they get to the suits.

It’s not something she can decide for them, or even present them with different options and get them to pick one. (Matt suspects she did consider that, but knew it wouldn’t be successful.)

Which was why they were being subjected to looking at pictures of wedding suits on the internet. Matt unsuccessfully tried to argue he should be exempt, due to the lack of vision, but Karen simply glared at him and he sat down.

“Okay, are they any colours we can eliminate immediately?” Karen asks.

“Fluorescent shades,” Matt says immediately. “And I’m not wearing anything yellow or pink. Or pastel. Or stripes.”

Karen scoffs and makes notes on her laptop. “And you didn’t want to participate. Foggy?”

“I mean, same on all those points. Nothing too bright? I feel like standard colours could be good, something dark grey, black, blue maybe? But navy, not bright blue.”

Karen hums and makes more notes, then turns her attention to the screen for a minute.

“What about something in charcoal for Foggy,” she suggests, clicking on something Matt can’t see.

Matt tries to conjure up a memory of what exactly charcoal looks like, and can’t get beyond dark grey. Or maybe he’s thinking of actual charcoal. But wouldn’t the colour be the same as the thing it’s based on? Why are colours so difficult?

“That could be nice,” he hedges.

“I was thinking you wouldn’t wear the same suits exactly, but would complement each other. I’ve been doing some research-”

“-the pinterest board,” Foggy chimes in.

“Yes, don’t interrupt, and a lot of the suits I’ve found that are the nicest in terms of complementing each other usually have similar styles or patterns, but contrasting colours or accents.”

She turns her laptop towards Foggy. “See, this suit has a crimson tie, and the other one is mostly crimson with a charcoal vest underneath. You’d both wear white shirts.”

Crimson, Matt knows crimson. Crimson is his father’s blood sticking to his hands, crimson is rage as he beats abusive fathers until they can’t eat, crimson is guilt flaring in his chest as he confesses his sins under the watchful eyes of God.

But crimson is also the warmth in his chest when Foggy says he loves him, crimson is waking up at night to a leg thrown over his side of the bed and being clung to like he’s the only source of heat in a blizzard, crimson is his glasses and his Daredevil suit and his favourite tie and the organ that Foggy gave him and he thinks it just might be perfect.

“Yes,” he says, not caring that he’s interrupted Karen explaining another option, something with blues. “Yes. That one. The crimson.”

“Foggy?” Karen asks.

And Foggy just beams, squeezing his hand. “Hell yeah. I’m game for whatever. Plus, it’ll be great when we can say that we let the blind man pick out the colour scheme for the wedding.”

“That’s it, I want a divorce,” Matt declares, but he’s smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“No take backs,” Karen says quickly. “Now that I’ve got a colour scheme things are going to move quickly and you’re not undoing my work by deciding you’d rather go with the sea foam.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen sea foam. I won’t miss if our wedding doesn’t include it.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Karen asks sweetly.

“Objection,” Foggy says.

* * *

“How does it look?” Matt asks, smoothing down the jacket that Karen insisted was the perfect shade of red to match his glasses without being excessive.

Foggy doesn’t say anything, just blinks repeatedly.

“Shit, I broke you,” Matt says.

“Not bad,” Foggy blurts out. “Uh… definitely not bad.”

Matt hums, considering the fit.

Karen throws the curtains open with no regard for their privacy, which at this point in the suit process has long since abandoned either of them.

“Oh damn, that’s hot,” she says. “No wonder Mr Nelson is over here thirsting so hard.”

“I’m not!” Foggy protests, but it’s a blatant lie.

“Good enough for me,” Matt decides. “If my wedding jacket can’t make my husband to be thirst over me, what’s the point in getting married.”

Foggy continues to gape at him while the tailor comes along to make a few measurements for adjustments. The sleeves are a bit tight, and there’s a scratchy spot along the collar, but otherwise, it’s a great fit.

Foggy’s jacket was easier to pick out, and has been waiting while they found the perfect one for Matt.

As soon as the jacket is off and the details of tailoring are decided on, Matt decides there’s vitally important business waiting for them at home.

“Very important,” he tells Karen.

“Of course,” she says knowingly.

Matt is a little disappointed he couldn’t bring the jacket home, but figures some things should be left for the wedding night.


	23. Chapter 23

They plan to not make a big deal out of Christmas that year. They were spending a lot on the wedding, even though Matt suspected they weren’t spending as much as they should have been, something Karen refused to talk about. Matt couldn’t detect a lie from her, so he had to let it go.

The point was, they weren’t celebrating big. They bought curtains for the living room, a purchase that probably should have been made as soon as they moved in together, but somehow always seemed unnecessary for the cost. But now, they were a gift to themselves, and it somehow made the process easier.

There are still presents under the tree on Christmas morning though, because they’re both incapable of foregoing the holiday completely.

Foggy continues with the tradition of buying Matt clothes that were the softest things he could touch. Matt notes that he seems to take great pride in watching Matt wrap himself up in sensory heaven. This year it is soft pants and even more fuzzy socks, in muted shades to blend in with his work clothes, according to Foggy. Matt knows Foggy is of the opinion that socks are where the outfit gets to go wild, but appreciates this concession.

Matt gifts Foggy a stack of books, some that he has been mentioning fondly for the past years, and others that he thinks Foggy will like, based on such reminiscings.

Later, Matt pulls a pair of the new socks on, and Foggy accompanies him to church, where they listen to Father Lantom speak about joy, the mentions of it in the Bible, the importance of it in their lives, and how they should accept joy in all of its many forms. Matt can’t help but think of Rosie, and how her expressions of joy were different from what others might experience, but were no less valid. He thinks about how he experiences joy, and what things brought him joy. Foggy is at the top of the list for both, as Foggy is one of the largest sources of joy in his life, and whenever he experiences joy, wants to share it with the person he loves most.

After church they make dinner together, and it’s perfect this time, no burnt gravy, no scorched stuffing, which means no side eye from Karen or remarks about their cooking abilities despite her skills being limited to mostly making casseroles.

She gives them gifts of silly ties and coupons for things like fixing the printer, calling their most troublesome clients, and even a get out of jail free card, if that were ever to happen. Matt really hopes it will never happen.

Matt gifts her a silk scarf he was assured matches her eyes perfectly, and Foggy gives her an enormous box of milk duds and a gift card for a candy store nearby.

“What did you guys give each other?” she asks over dessert.

“There’s no better present we could give each other than last year’s,” Foggy says solemnly. “But I gave him some socks.”

“Yes, your dual proposals.”

“Plus, I gave Matt a kidney, which technically covers me for all future birthdays and other holidays,” Foggy adds.

“It’s true,” Matt agrees. “Unfortunately, for as long as we’re together, my gift giving game, no matter how strong, will be overshadowed by the gift of an actual organ.”

“With any luck, I’ll need a piece of a liver at some point and he can return the favour,” Foggy says cheerfully, holding his glass up for a toast.

“May that never, ever happen,” Matt says instead, and clinks their glasses together.


	24. Chapter 24

About two months before the wedding, Brett comes to them, shuffling his feet, and mumbles something that only Matt can make out. All Foggy catches is that he’s planning something, under extreme duress, if his demeanor is anything to go by.

“You’re doing what?” Foggy asks.

Brett sighs, his suffering apparent. “It’s like a bridal party. But for dudes. Come on, please don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

“No, what did you call it?”

“A bro-dal shower,” Brett says very quietly.

“No, that’s what I thought,” Matt nods. “I just needed to check.”

“Listen, we don’t have to. We can just go out for some drinks, take a few pics, and my mom will be happy if she thinks I did you both right.”

“Oh no we’re definitely doing this,” Foggy asserts. “I’m just trying to figure out how it will fit with Karen’s party, which I think was going to be more of a traditional bridal shower. She just wasn’t calling it that, because obviously neither of us are brides.”

“We could do both,” Matt muses. “I feel like they’re very different in tone.”

“True,” Foggy agrees.

“We don’t have to do it,” Brett protests, to no avail.

“What if we divide and conquer?” Matt suggests. “I think you’d have more fun going out and drinking, and I think I’d enjoy doing whatever Karen has planned.”

Foggy hums. “Okay but if you’re going to a spa or something I want to come. Let me know what you’re doing when you find out.”

They both turn back to Brett, who seems defeated. “I guess I’ll plan something then,” he sighs. “And we’re not going to that shithole you both frequent.”

“For my bro-dal shower?” Foggy asks, aghast, holding a hand to his chest in mock horror. “Brett how dare you even think of it.”

Brett swears under his breath and walks off.

Matt doesn’t tell Foggy that Brett was lying about his mother forcing him. Bess probably had a large role in influencing Brett, but it was still Brett’s idea and execution.

“Maybe no strippers though?” Matt suggests.

“Matthew, how dare you even think I’d be unfaithful,” Foggy says seriously. “The only man I want to see performing a pole dance is you.”

“I think I’d probably be good at it,” Matt says, thinking it over. He does have the core strength, even if he has gotten a bit out of shape with illness and surgeries.

Foggy chokes, and when Matt tries to ask him if he’s alright, Foggy just drinks his coffee, despite it being too hot, so he doesn’t have to answer.

Matt just tucks that piece of information away for future use.

* * *

“I was thinking a brunch where we get very day drunk,” Karen tells him the next day when he asks about her plans for a bridal shower, or whatever it was called when it didn’t involve a bride or receiving gifts.

Matt does love brunch.

“So the thing is, Brett approached us yesterday about throwing a bro-dal shower, which is apparently the male equivalent of a bridal shower, except from what I gather it’s more of a low key bachelor party. Going out to a bar and drinking, that sort of thing. So Foggy and I figured we could do both. He’d probably be happier going out to drink with Brett than I would, and I’d probably enjoy what you had planned.”

He waits to see how she reacts.

“Oh, that’s actually probably better. That way you get some time apart. The whole point of these parties is that they’re supposed to be a last hurrah before you get shackled to a lifetime partner.” She pauses. “I’m rolling my eyes very dramatically. I may have pulled a muscle.”

“I figured from context,” Matt assures her.

“So this could be good. You and I get day drunk, gossip, maybe get our nails done or something, Brett and Foggy can go out and drink, throw axes at targets or whatever it is people normally do at bachelor parties, and everyone is happy.”

“Actually,” Matt says, grinning. “I had something else in mind. But we probably shouldn’t do it while day drunk.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule has been.... wild.

“How are you so good at this?” Karen asks, gaping.

“Clearly I chose the wrong profession. Or at least I could have been doing this to put myself through law school,” Matt muses, twirling around the pole. It probably wasn’t as effortless as it could have been a few years ago, but he was faring better than Karen, who was tiny, but lacked the upper body strength to support all her weight.

“She’s right,” Andrea, their instructor, says, watching him. “And you haven’t done this before?”

Matt shakes his head. “Transferable skills from boxing?” he suggests.

Karen scoffs. “Or something.”

Andrea looks between them but doesn’t ask.

He heaves himself up as Karen pulls her phone out and starts recording.

He beams a little for her and the footage as he performs what Andrea told him is a swan spin.

Andrea had been a little hesitant at first, given as how her main teaching tool was performing the various poses, and then helping people perform them, but Matt assured her that he picked things up quickly if she would give him a brief description of the poses and then adjusted his position as necessary. What helped even more was his ability to echolocate an outline of her using his heightened senses, but that really was neither here nor there.

“How about something new?” Andrea suggests. “This one is called the bow and arrow,” she says, demonstrating nearby. It takes her a minute to figure out how to explain the position to Matt, but she manages, and he nods in all the right spots and he does the mental math of how to get in that position.

The first attempt ends with him sliding down the pole, probably resulting in some rugburn that he’ll have a hard time explaining to Foggy, but the third attempt he manages to stick it.

“I’ll cut the failures out,” Karen assures him, still recording. 

“Once you get the poses down individually, it’s just a matter of arranging them into a series, often to music, and then it’s art,” Andrea tells him.

“Is your editing up to the challenge?” he asks Karen.

She scoffs. “You wish.”

“We’ll make do,” he assures her.

“You mean I’ll make do. You’re useless on the editing front, thank you.”

He hears Andrea muffle a laugh, probably not sure whether it’s appropriate for her to be laughing at such a thing, and he appreciates the attempt at tact.

He hangs onto the pole with his arms and holds his body straight out and spins until he collapses on the ground in a heap.

“A spectacular end to the video,” Karen decides, “No editing necessary.” She tucks her phone back into her waistband.

“You’re kidding, right Karen?” he calls after her as she disappears into the washroom to change for brunch. “Karen?”

Andrea helps him pick himself up off the ground.

“How bad is the pole burn?” he asks her. “On a scale of one to ‘I told my fiancé we were just going out for brunch and the video is going to be a surprise at the wedding’?”

She hums. “Might I suggest strategically staying clothed for at least the next few days?”

Matt considers it. “Maybe I’ll tell him I got hit by a car.”

Apparently Karen heard that from the washroom, because she opens the door to yell at him. “You absolutely will not. I’m not having Foggy think I nearly got you murdered the one time we go out together without him. I’ll tell him you tried to rescue a cat in a tree again.”

The door shuts, and Matt is left standing in front of Andrea, wondering if he’s going to have to play that off as a joke.

“Sounds like you have a good relationship,” she says finally.

Matt smiles and nods, and cannot wait for the brunch mimosas to start.

* * *

He staggers home in the late afternoon, comfortably day drunk. Karen delivers him to his door after Matt tried to explain why he got even dizzier with the spins than sighted people, and instead just waved a hand around, confident that he got his point across.

“How was brunch?” Foggy asks.

“Delicious,” Matt sighs. “I think I’m going to nap now.”

“I’d suggest you drink this bottle of water before falling asleep,” Foggy says, starting to throw it, before reconsidering, and instead walking over to hand it to him.

“You’re the best,” Matt says, overwhelmed with fondness. “Can we get married twice?”

“Let’s see how the first time treats us,” Foggy suggests. “Besides, this is just so you’ll take care of me when I stagger home very drunk after a night out with Brett in the near future.”

Matt nods sagely. “Seems fair.”

“Maybe take a Tylenol too,” Foggy says, reaching for the bottle to dig one out for him.

“We’re definitely getting married twice,” Matt tells him. “Once isn’t enough for how much I love you.”

“We’ll see if you feel the same way when you’re hungover,” Foggy says fondly. “Now go nap. I’ll rustle something up for dinner.”

“The best,” Matt calls, as he shuffles into the bedroom, downing half the bottle of water, and falling asleep almost instantly, the pole burns nearly forgotten under his clothes.


	26. Chapter 26

A few nights later when Foggy goes out with Brett, Karen brings her laptop over with a free trial of video editing software, and they make an evening of trying to cut the footage into something presentable. It’s made infinitely harder because Matt is useless, and is trying to help based on his memory of the footage.

He suspects Karen just starts ignoring him at some point, but doesn’t tell him.

“Maybe we should have gotten this done by someone… better,” Karen says after two hours.

“A little late now,” Matt points out.

“I need a beer to help with this,” she decides.

Two beers and an hour and a half later, she seems content with it. Or just done with it. She loads it onto a flash drive, which she passes to Matt. “You’re welcome,” she says.

“You’re the best,” he says, and he wholeheartedly means it. “Between the wedding planning and… just everything. Thank you. I’m so glad we decided to take your case.”

She laughs. “I’d say it was mutually beneficial for all of us.”

She packs up her laptop and heads home, and Matt tucks the flash drive into a set of Christmas socks for safe keeping.

* * *

Foggy stumbles home later, singing a song from Phantom of the Opera. Matt greets him at the door with a bottle of water and two aspirin.

“‘That’s all I ask of youuuuuu!’” Foggy finishes.

Matt is very glad he stopped there, and didn’t do the finale of the song, which involved notes many octaves higher, and would likely hurt Foggy’s ears as much as Matt’s.

“I beat Brett at the drinking game,” Foggy tells him, taking the aspirin.

“Which means tomorrow you will be losing,” Matt clarifies.

Foggy considers it. “Ask me later.”

He stumbles off to get changed, and when they both crawl into bed, Matt makes sure to position him on his side to both limit the snoring and the risk of aspiration.

“Love you,” Foggy says into his pillow.

* * *

“I definitely lost,” Foggy decides in the morning, when the sunshine streaming in the window forces him to burrow under the covers. “Brett is the worst.”

“I’m not taking him off the invitation list,” Matt says, passing Foggy more meds and some Gatorade. “Karen would kick our asses.”

Foggy grumbles until he falls back asleep.

* * *

Later that week Karen forces them to sit down during their lunch hour to make a seating plan, having received all their RSVPs.

“Okay, let’s just make sure the seating arrangements won’t end with murder. Danny is not being at the same table as Jessica-”

“And you vetoed our suggestions to have Jessica at her own table, so instead she’ll be sitting with Brett, Bess, and both sets of Foggy’s grandparents.”

“We can’t put one person at a table that would have looked ridiculous. Luke, Claire, Misty, Colleen, and Danny will be at the same table, which, as you requested, I have removed Marci from, and moved her to sit with Foggy’s Uncle Timmy and Aunt Jeanie, and an assortment of cousins.”

Foggy nods. “Ken’s still single, and Marci will either find him amusing or adorable, and either way should keep her distracted.”

“Foggy’s immediate family, including Edward, Anna, and Candace, are at the same table as me and Father Lantom, and then everyone else is not a concern for homicide, correct?” Karen asks.

“I mean Melvin-”

“Will be fine,” Matt says firmly. “He’s bringing his girlfriend. But the main homicide concerns were Danny, Jessica, and Marci, so as long as those threats are isolated, we should be fine.”

Karen makes a note.

“Has Amalia responded to the invitation?” he asks.

Karen shuffles through a few papers. “Yes. Her and Rosie will be coming.”

“Good,” Matt declares.

“Also Frank Castle sent a letter thanking you for not inviting him to the wedding as well as a gift. It’s a photograph of a man. I think he’s dead, at least based on the amount of blood-”

Matt snatches it out of her hands before she can continue. “How did he even know?”

“I mean, it was in the paper. He’s not an idiot.”

Matt scoffs, trying to feel the text of the card.

_Congrats Red. You could have invited me, but we both know I wouldn’t have come. As a wedding gift, I tracked down the head of a child trafficking ring in Hell’s Kitchen and killed him. Hope you don’t mind._

_Frank._

Matt sighs and tosses the letter aside. He finds that he doesn’t mind that much at all.

“This one isn’t going on the table at the wedding,” Foggy says, reading the letter.

“Agreed.”

* * *

They meet with Father Lantom to decide on the final details of the ceremony. Matt and Foggy are both fairly comfortable with giving him the final say on how he wants to structure the ceremony.

He had a few questions about things to include, or how they’d like things to be phrased.

“So obviously pronouncing you husband and wife is not going to work,” Father Lantom observes dryly. “Have you put any thought into what I should say instead?”

“Yeah, that was actually one thing we looked into. We’re fond of ‘partners for life’. Also works for the law partners thing,” Matt says, grinning.

Father Lantom makes a note.

“And what about vows?”

“I think we were planning on writing our own? Some of the traditional options are… less than ideal,” Foggy says, scrunching his face up in an attempt to figure out how to put it delicately.

Matt nods in agreement. “Although… are you sure you didn’t want to include the part about ‘to love, honour, and obey’?”

Foggy stares at him. “I need to obey _you_ , Matthew?”

Matt blushes and tries to hide it from Father Lantom, but suspects he is failing miserably.

“Do let me know what you’re planning on saying,” Father Lantom says diplomatically.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapters because I thought I posted the last one already and got very excited about posting the one with art, so.

The day of their wedding dawns brightly. Matt stands in front of the windows of their apartment and feels the sun beaming down on him, not diminished at all by any clouds. He doesn’t think it will rain, and if Karen has anything to say about it, it absolutely would not. Matt wouldn’t be surprised if she made an arrangement with the wizard that lives in Greenwich Village in order to have the weather be perfect. Every time that Matt thinks she’s peaked in her resourcefulness, she always manages to surprise him.

* * *

The cherry trees are in full bloom, and Matt can smell them even before they get out of the car.

The rest of the morning is a whirlwind of activity, making final arrangements, greeting assorted guests, and preparing for the ceremony.

Finally it’s time. Matt is wearing his suit. Karen has fixed his tie repeatedly and told him how wonderful he looks. Apparently his glasses match the jacket almost perfectly. Even his cane is free of scuffs, for however long that may last.

He’s suddenly gripped with terror that this is all about to go wrong somehow, that the skies will open up and begin pouring, that Foggy will have somehow disappeared, that their guests will have killed each other before the ceremony can even begin.

He knows his brain is lying to him, because the air pressure is perfect, he can hear Karen fussing over Foggy’s tie like she had already done to him, and their guests are sitting patiently, for the most part. Things can’t be more perfect.

Karen and Brett go first, as the maid of honour and best man. And no, Matt and Foggy weren’t going to try to rationalize their choices of wedding party, no matter how many times Foggy’s grandmother had asked. Next was Father Lantom. Then Rosie as the flower girl, accompanied by Amalia. Then Foggy.

Matt’s the last person to walk down the aisle. They talked about how the ceremony would go for a while, whether Matt and Foggy would walk down together, or come from different directions at the same time. They finally decided to lean more traditional, with Foggy waiting for Matt at the front. Matt pointed out that he wouldn’t be able to appreciate watching Foggy walk down the aisle, and he was pretty sure that’s what the point of that part was.

Foggy walked down the aisle alone, and Matt didn’t think about how much pressure that would be until it’s him that everyone is staring at. He sweeps his cane in front of him, praying that he doesn’t run into any of the chairs, or trip over uneven ground. He can feel Foggy beaming at him, and he’s sure Karen and Brett and Father Lantom are just as pleased, but he only has eyes for Foggy. Rosie and Amalia have gone back to their spot near the back, in case Rosie gets stressed and needs to make a quick exit, and Matt hears Rosie whispering to herself as he nears the front.

“Mr Murdock. Mr Nelson. Mr Murdock. Mr Nelson.”

She doesn’t sound anxious, but pleased. Amalia holds her hand.

Surrounded by all these people that care about him and Foggy, people that have had such an influence on his life, and he in theirs, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed. The best kind of overwhelmed.

He’s never been so thankful for his glasses, because it means no one can see the tears welling up in his eyes as he finally makes it to the front, where he stands across from Foggy. Their hands find each other, and Foggy squeezes his as reassurance.

Father Lantom looks between them and smiles before speaking.

“Hello everyone. My name is Father Lantom, and I have the privilege of performing the ceremony today. On behalf of Franklin Nelson and Matthew Murdock, welcome and thank you for being here. You are here today to share in their joy. I have known Matthew since he was a young boy, and I met Franklin much later, first through Matthew’s words, and then finally in person. As difficult as it is to believe, they were both oblivious to their feelings at the time, and it took them many more years before they finally admitted to their feelings. If only they’d been a little sooner in admitting it, I wouldn’t have lost $20 to Miss Page.”

People chuckle.

“When Matthew asked me to perform the ceremony, he was understandably a bit concerned. The Catholic church has made its position known, even as the Bible says something else, and it is the Bible with which I must agree. ‘Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.’”

Foggy squeezes his hands, and Matt smiles at him.

Father Lantom continues. “It is a beautiful day today. A perfect day. This city is home to so many people, and so many wonders, and that we are standing here today, under gorgeous blossoming cherry trees, surrounding by warmth and love, is truly a miracle. Matthew and Franklin have both overcome so much to be here, to be with each other, and to be with you, and it is as much a testament to their nature as it is to God. I believe they have both written vows, which they are now going to share with you. Matthew?”

Matt nods. There’s a piece of paper in his pocket with braille notes, but he has gone over the words so many times that he doesn’t think he could forget them, so he doesn’t let go of Foggy’s hands in order to speak them.

“Foggy,” he breathes. “I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wake up to you every morning, and fall asleep with you every night. I want all of our friends and family to be disgusted with how adorable we are. I want to live my life in such a way that it makes you proud, that you can’t wait to brag about loved you are to everyone, even people who’ve heard it before or that you’ve just met. There are so many things about you that make me love you, and I know I’ll never have time to list them all, but I can tell you a few. You make the best described movies that exist, and help me match my socks after we do laundry, and label the cans with funny braille labels. You made a law firm with me and trusted me enough when I said we should hire a woman we just got off of murder charges. You worry enough for both of us, and you’re the one that our clients keep coming back to, and you’re the reason we get discounts at six different delis. And part of you will always be with me, and I mean that completely literally, even if it also applies figuratively as well. Sometimes faith is hard. I lost my sight, and then my father, and that’s a lot to handle as a child. My faith was shaken, but I made it through. Then as an adult I found out I had a genetic disease that was destroying my kidneys. Someone might think that meant God was punishing them, and I might have thought that too, except there was so much more good in my life. There was you. During this time, I got pretty sick. And it was scary. But you were there. And that made me realize I didn’t want to keep doing this without you. Any of it. We kissed for the first time after I got home from the hospital, and all I could think was that we should have done it ages ago. And then when things got worse, you gave me one of your organs, despite all I tried to protest. You went through surgery and pain and… admittedly, time off work, so that I could have a better life, and there are no words to express how thankful I am for that. I love you, and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, and I cannot wait to spend my life married to you.”

Foggy sniffles a little. “I definitely should have gone first because now my vows are going to sound stupid in comparison.”

Matt beams at him. “Never,” he promises.

“Matthew. I promise to always tell you when your socks don’t match. I promise to never lead you into snowbanks except once a year, and I’ll make sure you’re not wearing your best clothes when I do it. I promise to not kiss you immediately after eating a bag of cheese balls because I know you hate the taste of them. I promise that I will give you one horrible tie every year for your birthday, and the softest pairs of socks for Christmas, and I will make French toast every weekend and probably not get it stuck to the wall. I promise not to hog the blankets, and wear socks to bed because you hate it when my bare feet touch your legs, and I will do my absolute best to not push you out of bed during any particularly rowdy dreams. I promise that I will go to church with you if you ask, and stay awake during the service, and not kiss you in front of all the elderly churchgoers unless you request it, because I know it’s a sin to accidentally kill them from shock. I promise to love you every morning, even if you don’t make coffee, and every night, even if you come to bed late. I will love you with every beat of my heart, and every breath, and I promise that any time you need me, I will be there for you in whatever way you need. Unless it involves exercise, in which case, it’s a tossup. I promise I will kiss you every single day, even if you’ve been rude, and I will sleep next to you every night, even if you are sick or it’s super hot out or our bed shrinks and we somehow don’t both fit. I love you so much, and I’m so glad we’re getting married, even if you did propose while you were very high after surgery.”

“I made it up to you,” Matt says.

“You did,” Foggy agrees.

Matt blinks away his own tears as Father Lantom clears his throat.

“Matthew, can you place Franklin’s ring on his finger?”

Matt pulls the ring from his pocket, feels it declare their love for each other as he slips it onto Foggy’s hand.

“And Franklin, please place Matthew’s ring on his finger.”

Foggy does the same for Matt, and he can’t help but feel the declaration of love again. Karen had wanted them to get wedding bands, but they agreed there was nothing better than braille rings they’d accidentally gotten made identically.

“Matthew, do you take Franklin to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and honour him all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Matt says, and it’s a promise, like the promise he made to this city, a promise filled with blood and tears and broken and bent to fit into something new. He knows he will not break this one, will not even bend it, even if there is blood and tears.

“Franklin, do you take Matthew to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and honour him all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Foggy says, and Matt doesn’t need to listen to his heart to hear the truth in it.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you partners for life.”

Matt kisses him with an intensity that makes him absolutely _ache._

He barely hears the crowed break into applause and cheers over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, and Foggy’s heartbeat through his chest, and Matt thinks he could live forever in this moment.

* * *

The ceremony ends, and they spend a while in the orchard getting pictures done while some of the crowd starts to trickle over to the building where they’ll be holding the dinner.

Matt overhears some of Foggy’s older relatives commenting on the state of the Catholic church, and pointedly doesn’t listen to the end of the conversation. Nearby, Rosie is shrieking with joy as she whips through the orchard, flapping her arms furiously. Her happiness is contagious, and Matt can’t hold back his grin as he kisses Foggy while the cherry blossoms fall around them, and he hears the click of the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art done by the amazing [doyoulikeketchup](https://doyoulikeketchup.tumblr.com/). You can see the full post here <https://www.instagram.com/p/CHPIffGg9-g/>  
> I commissioned it like a year ago and was hoping to post it sooner, but time is weird yall. Anyway it's been my phone background for all that time and it makes me ridiculously happy every time I look at it, so. Enjoy. I certainly have.


	28. Chapter 28

Eventually, they all make it to the Atrium.

Matt’s face hurts from smiling, and he doesn’t think he’ll be hungry enough to eat anything, but Karen moves forward with the proceedings, clinking a fork against a glass as servers prepare to bring out food.

“Before we get started with the dinner, I’d like to say a few things, in case Matt and Foggy haven’t been embarrassed enough. Speaking of embarrassment, Mrs Nelson, I’d love to see some of those baby pictures you mentioned earlier. But for now, I wanted to talk about how I met these fools, and why I decided to stick around.”

Matt’s wondering if he could somehow fake a disaster that would make Karen stop talking in the next four seconds or not.

“I first met Matt and Foggy after being arrested. They showed up in the middle of the night, decided to take my case, despite me not being able to pay them, which made sense when I found out they’d only been lawyers for a day. Luckily, I’m not in jail, because they’re both damn good at their job. I figured out pretty early on that they loved each other, even if they weren’t aware of it. When they finally starting dating around two years ago, it was a relief, because I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with both of them pining over the other separately. But Matt was sick. He spent more and more time at the hospital, and that wasn’t something that love could overcome or compensate for. But love could prompt someone to donate an organ, which is what Foggy did. And as soon as Matt woke up after the surgery, as soon as he realized Foggy was there and was okay, he did what any lovestruck fool would do in that situation. He proposed.”

She takes a minute for the guests to laugh.

“But that wasn’t all. Months later, I had to help both of them pick out rings. They each asked me, separately, to go with them. They both picked out the exact same ring, had the exact same engraving done. And when they proposed to each other, at the same time, they both nearly died laughing. Matt and Foggy, you two are truly a perfect pair. If the kidney wasn’t evidence enough, then surely the identical proposals were. I’m so happy for you, and I’m honoured that you allowed me to be part of your wedding.”

She holds her drink up for a toast, and the guests applaud her and toast.

“As if we could stop her from being part of our wedding, she planned it,” Foggy mutters, just loud enough for Matt to hear.

Matt grins, and squeezes Foggy’s hand under the table.

Dinner is served, and more guests get up and make speeches. Brett talks about how he met Foggy playing cops and robbers on the playground, and how they basically grew up to fulfill those roles. Bess swats her son for saying that, and waxes poetic about how Foggy always brings her the best gifts, thankfully not mentioning what those gifts were.

Foggy’s mom talks about the first Christmas Foggy brought Matt home from law school, where the whole family assumed they were dating and just didn’t mention it for the entire week until one of the young cousins asked about it loudly, and Foggy’s dad shushed her, assuming they were too shy to bring it up.

Claire talks about how selfless Matt is, and how brave Foggy is, and somehow manages to not mention how they met, which is extremely kind of her.

Danny starts to get up to make a speech, which instantly has Matt panicking, because Danny is terrible at keeping secrets and even worse at lying, but thankfully Colleen steps on his foot and makes him sit down, all while managing to make it seem accidental.

They eat so much food, and when Matt thinks it’s impossible to eat another bite, cut the cake, which they attempt to feed to each other. Matt pokes Foggy in the face with the fork, and then starts laughing so hard that he doubles over, nearly impaling himself on the fork Foggy was attempting to steer into his mouth. They both end up with icing on their shirts, and neither of them care.

As Foggy holds Matt close during their first dance, Matt takes the opportunity to whisper in his ear.

“I’ve got another present for you, but I decided it would be better if it waited until we were home.”

“Oh?”

Matt grins. “It’s… a multimedia presentation. Karen helped me with it.”

Foggy hums. “So probably not a sex tape.”

Matt chokes back the snort. “Definitely not.”

Around them, people start joining in. Karen takes Foggy, and Matt is swept away by Anna Nelson. She holds him close, and despite before a good head shorter than him, Matt feels overwhelmingly safe with her.

“Welcome to the family dear. I can think of no one I’d rather have as a son,” she says, and Matt doesn’t even pretend not to cry.

Matt dances with Karen, who gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells him he’s doing great, and he dances with Claire, who whispers she’s so glad this was where his path led him and not somewhere darker. Matt is glad too.

Melvin and Betsy dance by, and Danny and Colleen twirl around, too quick for Danny to say anything, although he certainly tries.

Matt even manages to grab Jessica before she dips from the party and uses his best sad expression when she declares she’s not the dancing type.

“It’s my wedding day,” he pouts.

Jessica audibly rolls her eyes and reluctantly leads him to the dance floor. “I hate you,” she says.

“I know,” Matt beams.

He releases her when the song ends, and he finds Foggy as a slower song starts. He’s nearly bowled over by the sudden impact into his legs, since he apparently missed Rosie rushing at them.

“Hello Rosie,” Matt says. “Would you like to dance?”

Rosie nods.

“Okay, so if you stand on top of my feet, I’ll be able to do the steps for both of us, okay? Then all you have to do is hold my hands and we’re good to go. Now, do you think that we can include Mr Nelson in this dance too?”

“Mr Nelson,” Rosie agrees.

“That’s very kind of you,” Foggy grins.

Rosie climbs on Matt’s shoes. It seems like she abandoned her shoes at some point, and Matt hopes that Amalia knows where they are.

She grips Matt’s hands tightly, and off they go.

Rosie giggles as Matt steps high into the air, raising her up. After a minute, she reaches one hand out to Foggy, and they form a tight ring, Rosie still perched on Matt’s feet, but all of them holding hands. As the song ends, Matt lifts Rosie into the air and then dips her, and she breaks into laughter.

“Again!” she begs.

Amalia appears. “Oh my, it looks like you had the best dance, huh?” she says.

Rosie nods enthusiastically.

“It was very kind of Mr Nelson and Mr Murdock to invite us to their wedding, wasn’t it?”

Rosie nods again.

“And now that you’ve had your dance, it’s time to go home. It’s getting late.”

“Late,” Rosie echoes, sounding less excited about that.

“You were an excellent flower girl,” Foggy says solemnly. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Rosie beams at the praise and flaps her hands in front of her.

“Excellent,” she agrees.

Amalia hands Rosie her shoes, thankfully. That’s one less thing Matt will have to worry about later.

“No,” Rosie says.

“You need to wear shoes for the subway. Otherwise you might step in gum again, and that’s worse.”

Rosie hums, and must agree, because she puts the shoes on without argument.

Matt hugs Amalia. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting us. We’re very grateful for what you two have done for us.”

She takes Rosie’s hand.

“And I think you’ll find another piece of art by Rosie on the gift table.”

“Another Rosie original?” Matt asks. “Amazing. High five?” he asks, crouching down and holding out his hand for Rosie.

She immediately smacks his hand and then gives him a quick hug before darting back to her mother’s side.

“Get home safe,” Foggy tells them. “You were the best dancer here,” he tells Rosie with a wink.

She giggles.

Amalia grabs her hand. “Okay, and we are headed home. Thanks again.”

“Thanks,” Rosie echoes.

Foggy pulls Matt close as the two of them leave, and the music behind them shifts again. Matt can hear Rosie talking, even as they leave the building.

“Mr Murdock. Mr Nelson. Mr Murdock. Mr Nelson. Mr Murdock Nelson?”

“Hmm,” Amalia says. “I don’t know if they’ll be changing their names. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Matt gives Foggy a kiss, and then drags him back into a dance.

They drink champagne, and the general tempo of the music picks up.

Jessica apparently stuck around long enough to get a buzz going, since she does join Foggy for a dance, and then makes fun of Danny’s dancing before bidding them a good night and heading into the city. Matt is a little worried about her, but as soon as she’s out of the building, she straightens up, apparently not as intoxicated as they all thought.

Matt dances with everyone, with people he forgets the name of, because they’re relatives of Foggy, and now, he realizes, him. He dances with Marci, and Luke, and Bess. He even manages to get a dance with Candace.

“You know,” she says, grudgingly, “You’re not the worst brother in law I could have asked for.”

Matt takes that as the high praise it is.

“Even if I was hoping for a sister in law,” she continues.

Well.

Matt dips her, and she grabs at his arms in protest.

“Okay I take that back. You’re the worst.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, because I’ll be sticking around for a long time.”

Candace scoffs. “How unfortunate.”

But Matt can hear the smile pulling at her face, and the skip in her heart as she tries to say it, and he knows that she’s just putting up a front.

They dance until stars come out, and the crowd thins, and then it’s finally just Matt, Foggy, and Karen left.

“Go home,” she urges them. “I’ve got this.”

For a split second, Matt wants to know how she plans on cleaning up, getting their things home, but immediately decides it’s not important.

He and Foggy have very important business at home that involves his jacket, and the present that is hidden inside a pair of socks.

Danny apparently left them a car and a driver as their wedding present, and Matt doesn’t even protest.

They sit in the backseat and let themselves be carried across the city, leaning against each other and murmuring about the best parts of the evening.

They climb the stairs, giddy and lovestruck all over again. Matt hopes the laptop he set up that morning is ready to go with the video.

“Okay so who’s carrying who over the threshold?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know I can’t,” Foggy told him. “And I don’t really want you to-”

He’s cut off as Matt swings him into his arms.

Foggy squeaks and throws his arms around Matt’s neck. “This is what I wanted to avoid!”

Matt shushes him with a kiss and carries him over the threshold into the apartment.

“Okay, this is good,” Foggy tells him as Matt keeps taking steps into the apartment. “Okay, or not.”

Matt puts him down on the bed. “Now this is good,” he announces. He stands above Foggy, smirking at him. “I had to listen to you thirst over me in this jacket all night long,” Matt says. “So now I’m giving you the chance to strip me out of it.”

Foggy grins widely. “Oh, that I can do.”

“And once that is done, you may want to turn your attention to the laptop,” Matt says, gesturing to the bedside table as Foggy tugs at his tie. “I think you’ll find it relevant to your interests.”

Foggy doesn’t even make it through taking Matt’s shirt off before his gaze catches the laptop, and he gets immediately distracted.

“Oh my god,” Foggy breathes as he takes in the paused video on the screen.

Matt cackles, and wiggles in next to him. “Press play. It gets better, I promise.”

Foggy pulls the laptop closer, undressing Matt completely forgotten. It’s fine; they’ll get back to it.

“Okay, this explains the period of time you wouldn’t get undressed in front of me. I thought it was some pre-wedding purity thing, but no, I bet you just had really bad carpet burn, didn’t you?”

Matt presses a kiss to his lips to get him to stop talking, and presses the keyboard to make the video start.

“Oh. My. God,” Foggy breathes as he watches Matt spin around the pole. “We’re getting one for home.”

Matt beams, and presses into Foggy’s side. He hopes that Karen fixed the ending, and that it wouldn’t conclude with him falling onto the mat, but he knows it’s probably a toss up. Either way, Foggy would enjoy the video, and then enjoy the real thing in front of him. He would finish undressing Matt, and they would make love and then fall asleep in each other’s arms, and Matt knows that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this fic, I love this universe, and that's why there's going to be more of it. Stay tuned for a short bonus, and then at least two longer fics.   
> <3


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